


Don't Open That Door

by Sailorhathor



Category: Foo Fighters, Nirvana
Genre: Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Murder, M/M, Possession, Self-Harm, Serial Killers, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-29 09:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 80,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailorhathor/pseuds/Sailorhathor
Summary: After several scary encounters in his home, Dave is convinced the ghost from his Seattle house followed him to his current one. He enlists the help of Taylor and a Ouija board to try to get to the bottom of things, but it only results in one of them being possessed by the thing in the house. The very dangerous thing in the house.





	1. This is a Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I should have known there was something weird about the Ouija board when it came wrapped in cellophane like a fucking fruit basket."

**Warnings:** Some of the sex scenes have dubious consent issues because one of the persons involved is possessed by a ghost and not fully in control of himself at the time. At least two sex acts are non-con or attempted non-con. Everyone is married to their real life spouse in a semi-open marriage (this will be discussed in the story). Language (lotsa F-bombs; this is Dave and Taylor we're talking about). Horror elements.  
**Author's Notes:** Will be noted as we go along.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is fictional, which means that while the characters may be loosely based on the public personas of real people, the story itself is completely ungrounded from reality and is in no way meant to reflect the private lives, actual practices, or activities of any persons named. (Modified from the disclaimer at Rockfic.com.)

 

The room filled with the sound of crackling cellophane as Dave unwrapped the item that Petra had bought on his behalf a few days before. He put the wrapping and ribbon aside to look at the one-of-a-kind Ouija board carved out of poplar wood and shellacked with great care. "What the fuck is this?"

Taylor took another sip of wine before putting the glass down and considering the board on the table before them. He was looking at its fancy lettering upsidedown, but he still knew what it was. "Well, it's a Ouija board. Isn't that what you asked for?"

"Yeah, I asked for a Ouija board." Dave picked up his own glass of wine and gulped down half of its contents, sucking in a mouthful with a slurping sound. Swishing it around in his mouth, he finally swallowed and then grinned at the taste. "I just thought she'd go to fucking Target and get some Parker Brothers shit or something. This was bought from..." A card hung from the ribbon that had been tied around the cellophane wrapping to hold it closed; Dave took it between his fingers and turned it over to read it. "...the Magic Cove. It looks like something you'd use to commune with witches or some shit. I should have known there was something weird about it when it came wrapped in cellophane like a fucking fruit basket."

"You know Petra," Taylor said of Dave's neighbor from down the street. "She does everything in style."

"I guess, but even this? No wonder it cost so much." He traced over the letter A with his finger. All letters, numbers, and words had been burned into the wood and then carved until they formed an attractive cursive font, with flourishes here and there for a dramatic design.

"Why did you have Petra buy it anyway?"

"You think I want 'TMZ' catching me getting a fucking Ouija board?"

Holding his wine glass close to his lips, Taylor said, "You've talked about using one with the press before," and took another sip.

"I know, but it's different now. I'm closing in on fifty. Then, I was still a quirky kid. Now, I'd be an old eccentric, asking Kurt for songwriting ideas. I don't want people saying that shit about me." Looking at the board, Dave shook his head. "Damn Petra."

Taylor had to snicker, his glass hanging loosely from his fingers by the rim. Petra's husband had struck it rich in the construction business, leaving her with plenty of time to maintain a fun little venture on the side, running errands for her well-off, busy neighbors. Housesitting, pet sitting, dog walking, whatever needed to be done, including picking up items for people that they did not want to be seen buying. Dave hadn't needed for the Ouija board to be so fancy, but at least it would still function the same. "You gotta admit, it's pretty gooch."

"Kinda, I guess. Let's see what we got here." Picking up a thick sheet of paper from inside the cellophane wrapping, Dave began to read about his new communication tool. "Ah, _thank you for your purchase_ , mmm, _made of poplar wood to enhance your intentions to communicate with other realms_ , yadda yadda yadda, _more powerful than your standard board, please make sure you read the following prayer before every use to protect yourself from possible possession or other forms of attachment_?" The tone of his voice became more dubious as he went along; now, Dave stuck his tongue out in a raspberry. "Pbbt. What are we, in church?" He flung the instructions aside.

Taylor snickered again. "They really sell it, huh?"

"Yeah." His eyebrows arched, Dave overdramatically rolled his eyes.

"Tell me again how this whole thing started."

Dave looked behind himself at the statue in the corner of what he and Jordyn had deemed the art room. She was more into art for art's sake, he bought it for the investment. Twice a year, they looked for something affordable but valuable, and this time, it had been Jordyn's turn to pick. "It all started when _that thing_ came into the house. I thought it was creepy from the moment I saw it, but Jordyn would not be swayed."

Taylor took a moment to examine the statue from across the room, his eyes moving up its form. Essentially, it was a male mannequin painted to look like a blue sky, with clouds and rainbows and a kite floating across its chest. The eyes, painted medium blue with darker flecks, almost seemed real, such care had been taken in their crafting with a paintbrush. The mannequin had been bisected at the waist and its top and bottom halves misaligned, the top half connected to the bottom half by a twisted, bending braid of copper wire. Its right arm was bent up at the elbow, index finger aimed toward the ceiling as if the mannequin was about to make an important point. It had no hair nor clothes, just a body made of plastic and sky. "I can't say I like Jordyn's taste in art this time around. Is this to pay you back for the two Magrittes with nude chicks in 'em that you bought?"

"Possibly. Mostly, she said she wanted it because the artist is really trendy and popular right now. Says he's gonna be real big, and then we'll be happy to have a creepy mannequin in our home." Dave visibly shuddered. "Tell me, man, would you want a fucking mannequin in your house?"

Staring at the piece of art, Taylor gave a shudder too. "Fuck no. They give me the willies. Who is this great up-and-coming artist?"

Dave leaned in. "He calls himself... Thingamabaub."

Laughing, Taylor said, "Really?"

"His real name is Bob Christy. Get it? Thingamabob? Only, he spells it B-A-U-B."

Taylor laughed louder and longer. "You made that up, man!"

"I did not." Dave was laughing too. "He really does."

Still chortling, Taylor extended the pinky curled around his wine glass, doing a caricature of a snooty person. "Excuse me," he began, speaking with a haughty, uptight accent, "you spelled my name wrong. It's not B-O-B. My name is spelled B-A-U-B, thank you." Taylor brushed imaginary dust off his knees with the other hand, scrunching up his face in disgust. "Peasant!"

Now Dave laughed louder than before, a hand to his stomach. "I know, right? It's so stupid. Pretentious motherfucker."

Taylor tried to calm his laughter so they could continue the conversation about the "paranormal activity" in Dave's house, but it was hard. _Baub._ His eyes scrunched up and his sunny smile came out once again in a fit of renewed chuckles. All he and Dave could do for about twenty seconds was roll in their seats with laughter until their peals tapered into snickers and wiping of damp eyes. Things seemed ten times more humorous than they actually might be when you were slightly drunk.

"Goddamn, that's funny. What's the statue called? 'Plastic D-U-E-D'?"

That set them off again. Dave snorted and then tried to control himself, getting out, "It's called 'The Conduit.'"

Taylor spoke between chortles. "'The Conduit'? The fuck why?"

"I dunno." Looking at the painted mannequin, his amused smile faded. "The day it was delivered, I saw a bowl slide along the kitchen counter by itself."

"Really? Fuck all. That's scary."

"Just - " Dave demonstrated how fast the bowl moved with his arm, making a swishing sound. "All I could do was stare at it for a minute. Are we having extreme foundation problems or did that thing just move by itself?"

For a moment, Taylor considered what Dave had said, and then he snickered through his teeth. "Those would be some pretty extreme foundation problems."

"Yeah. Call Foundation Repair."

"Then what happened?"

"A lot of it is standard stuff. Doors opening by themselves, cabinets swinging closed, all of it with no one nearby to make it move, and you should see those doors go, I mean, this is no slow might-be-a-breeze closing; this is some movement with purpose." Dave spoke as much with his hands as with his mouth, gesturing freely to illustrate everything he said. "You should be in here alone with it. Its eyes follow you everywhere, just boring into your back. When you go up the stairs, it feels like someone's chasing you from here up to the kitchen."

"Ooh, like the ghost in your old house in Seattle."

"Yeah."

"That's why you think this house could be haunted by the same ghost."

"Exactly."

"But what does your old ghost have to do with this statue?"

Dave thought about it; he knew exactly why he thought what he thought, but how to put it into words...? It was actually pretty easy. "A name says everything, right? It's called 'The Conduit.' Maybe _Baub_ designed the thing to allow ghosts and other shit to pass between worlds. Maybe my 'old ghost' has been looking for a way to follow me all this time."

Feeling a little overwhelmed with the idea, Taylor reared back in his seat and blinked several times, considering Dave's theory. A piece of art that allowed ghosts to cross miles from one house to another? It was like something out of a movie. He finally sighed and leaned forward. "You think this ghost likes you that much?"

"I started a dialogue with her. Maybe she needs me to finish saying what she's got to say." Dave pointed to the Ouija board.

Smiling to himself, Taylor wanted to reach out and stroke Dave's arm, give him a hug, something. He so earnestly wanted to help this ghost, just like he wanted to make real connections with his fans. He needed to make a difference wherever he went. But, that need could wind up hurting Dave when he was bound for the wrong track, possibly setting himself up for failure. Whatever was going on, Taylor didn't think it had anything to do with the ghost in Seattle. "But didn't you say that Jordyn saw a dead guy in the bathroom? Not a female ghost?"

"Well, yeah." Dave leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "She said she walked by the master bathroom, you know, the one off our bedroom..."

"Yeah."

"...and out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone sitting on the toilet, someone adult-sized with sandy brown hair. It scared her, you know, because no guy with that hair color was supposed to be in the house. She looked and for a split second saw a man sitting on the closed toilet with his hands over his face, and there was... there was a severed head in the bathtub, trailing blood going down the drain."

"Wow... I'd shit a brick."

"Most people would." There was a little bit of a laugh in Dave's voice when he said it, but it was a nervous laugh, a frightened one. "When Jordyn came to me, she was shaking. The guy and... the head... disappeared, but... I'm afraid of my girls seeing them."

"Of course," Taylor said, nodding.

Dave looked up at the ceiling as he spoke. "Violet saw a door slam closed by itself, accompanied by a loud fucking thump on the wall. Afterward, she clung to my side so tightly..." Shaking his head, he leaned forward and looked at his friend with new determination. "We're going to get to the bottom of this tonight. I'm the man of this house, and I'm not going to let any ghost scare my family just because she has a message to get through." He tapped the Ouija board hard with the tips of his first two fingers. "Whatever this is about, you have to help me solve it."

"Of course, Dee, yeah yeah." Wiping his palms on his jeans, Taylor asked, "If this Baub guy did put the statue together as a ghost conduit or whatever, why would he do that? And if it really works, why would he sell it?"

"I don't know, artists do all kinds of fucked up things in the name of self expression. You ever hear of Robert Mapplethorpe?"

Taylor acted almost insulted to be questioned about such a thing; didn't everyone know who... er... his shoulders slumped. "...No."

Waving a dismissive hand, Dave said, "Never mind. I don't know, maybe the guy thinks he's a badass ghost buster or some crazy shit. Tries to collect ghosts or something. Artists are often eccentric, you know. And what he created actually worked. But it didn't trap the ghosts, it just let them through. So he got bored with his toy and slapped some paint on it and viola! $20,000 worth of sucker Dave!"

"You spent $20,000 on that thing?" Taylor asked with wide eyes.

"Like I said, Jordyn, on the trail of a good investment, will not be denied." Dave, gesturing to the other art on the walls and displayed around the room, said, "Look, I didn't buy this stuff because it's all going to appreciate in value. Some of it we got because we like it. Especially this one..." He gazed upon one of the Magrittes - this one featured a nude woman covered in jewels - and said nothing for a moment, eyes a little glassy with alcohol. "The really expensive pieces may stay at a level price. But this statue could be worth a lot more someday. I don't want to just throw the thing out if there's some way we can close the door, you know what I mean?"

Nodding again, Taylor assured, "Of course, Dave, I know just what you mean. Well, I'm not so sure this guy created a ghost conduit on purpose, you know, but there definitely is something strange going on here. We can get to the bottom of it."

"Okay," Dave replied, grinning. He turned the Ouija board so the letters and numbers were upright for Taylor, downed the last of his glass of wine, and slapped a thin wooden planchette with felt on its feet down on the board's glossy surface. "Let's do this shit, Tee."

Taylor rubbed his hands together. "Where do we start?"

They were both sitting in chairs with wheels; Dave rolled his around to Taylor's side of the table. "You're going to put your hands on the planchette so it can move around while I write down what it says."

Taylor rubbed his fingers over the board's surface. "The letters look carved, but the board is smooth. Did they cover it with glass?"

"No, I think it's some kind of shellack or resin."

"Wow, fancy."

"Cost $125. Like I said, I should have known there was something weird about the board." Dave, getting his sheets of paper laid out, pointed to the opposite wall. "I want you to focus on the art instead of the Ouija board. If you look at the board, you'll try to influence what it's saying based on what you anticipate it to say next. Just trust me to write down every word and don't look, okay? Look at the art on the wall."

"Okay." Taylor put all of his fingers, save for the thumbs, on the planchette and then asked, "Aren't you supposed to be on the other side with your fingers on here too?"

"I can't write anything down if I do that."

"Oh, right."

Taking a deep breath, Dave signalled for Taylor to be ready and asked the first question. "Is there anybody here besides us?"

At first, the planchette sat still, unmoving. Dave and Taylor both held their breath. Then it slowly slid up the board to _YES._

"Awesome, it's working." Taylor was looking at the board.

"Tee, don't do that. Look at the wall."

"Oh right, sorry. It's too tempting not to look." He tried to keep his eyes on the naked woman in the Magritte painting.

Dave continued with his questions. "Are you the same ghost that haunted my house in Seattle?"

The planchette moved to _NO_.

"No?" Dave clicked his tongue. "There goes half my theory."

"It feels like someone's got their hands over mine," Taylor commented.

"It always feels like that with a Ouija board. Okay, if you're not my previous ghost, then who are you?"

The planchette immediately began to spell out a name. Whoever this ghost was, he wasn't wasting any time. _NICKY._

"Nicky? Nicky who?"

Suddenly, the board stopped responding, the planchette unmoving.

"I can feel this energy around my hands, like the air is charged," Taylor said, trying to describe the feeling of being the one with his hands on the pointer when it was working. "He wants to keep talking to us, but he doesn't want to answer that question. I can feel it. The energy is... reluctant. Waiting for you to move on."

"Why is that, 'Nicky'? Would we recognize the name if we heard it?"

The planchette began to move again. _MAYBE._

"What'd it say?"

"Maybe."

"Ooh." Taylor had a sudden, horrible thought. "Nikki Sixx didn't die, did he?"

Dave couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm quite sure the ghost isn't Nikki Sixx. Besides, he spelled it N-I-C-K-Y." Thinking a moment, Dave continued asking questions. "What are you doing in my house, Nicky? You're scaring my family and I don't like that."

He watched as the pointer spelled out _TRAPPED._

"Trapped? Why are you trapped here?"

_CONDUIT._

Snapping and then pointing at the statue, Dave said, "You see? It's the statue. Our ghost came in with the statue. What can we do to set you free?"

The ghost paused as if it was thinking before replying. _NEED NEW PLACE TO GO._

"New place to go? How would that help?"

Dave opened his mouth to ask more, but the planchette began to move again. As it finished its trip around the board, he frowned and thumped Taylor on the shoulder with the back of his hand. "Stop pushing it. We were getting somewhere."

"What do you mean? I wasn't pushing it."

"Oh really? You mean you didn't make it spell this?" Dave showed him his writing on the piece of paper.

Because Dave didn't know what the board was going to say, he simply wrote down each letter as it came, which made the words run together until he rewrote them. He hadn't had the time to fix this one yet. Still, it wasn't that hard for Taylor to figure out, and he couldn't hold back his snickers.

_HOLYSHITAREYOUDAVEGROHL_

"Do I take that laugh as a confession?"

Shaking his head, Taylor said, "No, man. I didn't push it, I swear." Despite himself, he laughed some more. "The ghost knows you."

"Great, my ghost is a fan." Dave pointed to Taylor. "Then I guess you know him too."

The planchette spelled out, _WHOS HE._

Now Dave took his turn to laugh. "Ha ha ha, HA HA, HA! HA!"

Feigning hurt, Taylor replied, "Now that smarts."

"Hey, stop reading as we go along. Look at the art, goddamnit."

"Look at the art, look at the art," Taylor parrotted, but in a mocking voice.

Dave put two-and-two together and rolled his eyes. "So you were a fan of Nirvana."

The pointer went straight to _YES._

"That's just what I need." Dave sighed. "Look, I appreciate that you love Nirvana; I'm certainly not knocking my work with that band, but you're scaring my wife and children. What do I have to do to set you free so you can go on to Heaven?"

There was a long pause. Then, _IM NOT WELCOME THERE._

Dave, not understanding, read it twice. "Huh? Not welcome wh..." He figured it out. "Heaven. You're not welcome in Heaven."

"Is that what he said?"

Dave nodded. "Why wouldn't you be welcome in Heaven? What did you..." Swallowing hard, he whispered to Taylor, "I want this guy out of my house."

The planchette moved around the board furiously. Taylor's eyes widened as he tried to keep up. _I CAN HEAR YOU._

The two men glanced at each other. "I'm sorry, Nicky. But really, you're saying some scary shit. What can I do to get you to leave?"

While waiting for an answer, Taylor leaned over and said quietly, "Doesn't it seem kind of strange that this guy is a Nirvana fan and he winds up in your house?"

Dave shrugged. Before he could say anymore, the pointer started to move again. As Dave realized what it was saying, his face became more and more grim with frustration and anger.

_THERE ISNT A DAMNED THING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT._

Tapping Taylor's arm, Dave showed him the message. Now Taylor scowled, and mouthed, "What the fuck?"

Dave started to say something, but just at that moment, a loud crashing sound and then a bang came out of the walls. Both men jumped, Taylor making a whimpery noise. "Nick, calm the fuck down, okay?" Dave demanded.

Looking down at his hands still on the planchette, Taylor said, "I can't - I can't move my - " He struggled a little, looking back up. Taylor made such a deep, shaken gasp that the sound sent chills sweeping up Dave's back. "Dave!" he whispered harshly. "Look at the statue! Its eyes! They're _different!_ "

Dave didn't want to look. Instead, he looked at Taylor's frightened face as he stared at the statue. If he had looked at his own face in a mirror, he would have seen the same wide eyes and gritted teeth. "How could they be different? They're painted on."

"Look!" Taylor whispered. "They aren't blue anymore."

Another chill crawled up Dave's back at just the tone of those words, how desperately cornered Taylor seemed to feel at that revelation. As if he believed 'Nicky' when he said there wasn't a damn thing they could do to make him leave. He reached over and briefly patted Taylor's shoulder. It registered on some sublevel of Dave's mind that the shoulder felt cold.

"Dee?" Taylor whimpered.

"It's okay," Dave said softly, and stood up, creeping slowly toward the statue. Taylor was right. As he approached it, Dave could see that its eyes were now pools of blackness. And as he got closer, he could see that they looked just as painted on as ever. "How the hell is this possible?" he thought aloud.

"Dave, does this mean he's... out here... in the room with us?"

He looked at Taylor, noticing for the first time that he still had his fingers plastered to the Ouija's planchette. "Are you o - "

There came another loud rap on an adjacent wall. It was followed by several more, ear-assaulting bangs that moved around the room from the statue to the wall behind Taylor. Dave winced in his shoulders and scrunched up his face, then yelled, "Quit that fucking shit!"

Taylor squeezed his eyes shut until it was over. Afterward, he relaxed a bit, but he didn't open his eyes.

"Motherfucker!" Dave shouted at the ceiling. "Get out of my goddamn house! NOW!" The muscles in his arms flexed and his nostrils flared.

The room fell silent. Dave looked around, challenging the open air to do it, just do something else, just try me, fuckhead. Nothing happened. He looked over at the statue. The eyes were still black.

Dave turned to check each side of the room and caught something out of the corner of his eye. A fancy mirror in a silver frame hung in a corner, an expensive artistic piece Jordyn had wanted on sight because the frame was very ornate, made in the art nouveau style. Dave had it hung with one side attached to one wall and the other attached to the perpendicular wall so it reflected the room nicely. Now he could see Taylor reflected in it, sitting with his hands on the planchette and head down, eyes closed.

He wasn't alone.

A man, a partially transparent man, hovered behind Taylor with his ghostly, whispy arms around Taylor's shoulders. He was reaching around, holding Taylor's wrists down. Dave's body froze, not allowing him to move as he realized the guy wasn't standing behind Taylor, but floating behind him, his legs almost parallel to the floor. As he watched, the ghostly hands sunk into Taylor's hands, the arms about to follow. The ghost was whispering in Taylor's ear.

Horrified, Dave looked away from the mirror at the actual Taylor. No ghost. When he put his eyes back on the mirror, the ghost was there again, arms sinking into Taylor's arms. Fear filled Dave's eyes. "Tee!"


	2. Alone + Easy Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was silly. Taylor seemed pretty much like himself. Grinning, Dave joked, "Feel like committing any lewd sexual acts?"
> 
> A slow, smirky smile came across Taylor's face. "Why, did you have something in mind?"

Horrified, Dave looked away from the mirror at the actual Taylor. No ghost. When he put his eyes back on the mirror, the ghost was there again, arms sinking into Taylor's arms. Fear filled Dave's eyes. "Tee!"

In a few swift strides, he was at Taylor's side. He yanked the back of Taylor's chair away from the table with one hand - Taylor rolled away with it - and flipped the Ouija board with the other. The board and planchette tumbled off the table, landing on the hardwood floor with a clatter and a loud series of thumps.

Dave, panting with adrenaline and fear, knelt before his friend. "Taylor?" He patted Taylor's face. "Are you okay?"

Taylor seemed to come awake, blinking and looking around. He gazed at his hands and turned them over, looking at both sides, then examined his chest as if he couldn't believe he was still in his own body. "Huh?" Taylor met eyes with Dave. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"I'm sorry. I think the ghost was trying to possess you." He sighed. "It's my fault. I should have read the prayer that came with the board." Dave lovingly stroked Taylor's cheek, not even thinking about how intimate an act it was. He couldn't help but worry about his friend after what he'd seen. Checking the mirror, Dave sighed with relief when he didn't see the ghost anymore.

Taylor stretched his shoulders and arms, smiling a little at how his body felt. His neck popped. "Mm, don't worry. I'm fine. You saved me."

Dave knew something was off, he just couldn't put his finger on it. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Taylor nodded. "I think he's gone. You scared the ghost away."

Blinking, Dave commented, "It can't be that easy."

"Well, I don't feel him here anymore. Do you?"

Dave looked around. "The statue's eyes are still black. That means the ghost is out here somewhere. Nicky! Where the fuck are you, you little shit?"

"If you're still here, bang on the wall like you did a minute ago," Taylor added.

No noise came in answer to his demand. He shrugged.

Suddenly remembering what he felt before, Dave reached over and touched Taylor's shoulder. It felt warm. He sighed, feeling a little better.

"Everything okay there?" Taylor asked, eyeing Dave's hand as he pulled it back.

"Yeah, I think so." He took out his phone.

Eyeing this too, Taylor started to say, "What's th - " but stopped himself, and instead said, "Whatcha doing?"

Dave looked Taylor over briefly. Something wasn't right. "Looking up exorcisms on the web. Can you think of a better way to get this asshole out of my house?"

"Hey, good idea. But are we qualified to do something like that? Don't you usually have to get a priest?"

Scoffing, Dave replied, "First I bring a Ouija board into my house, then a priest? I really want to see what 'TMZ' would do with that."

Taylor laughed a little too loudly at that one. "Hey, I want a refill." He picked up his wine glass. "Don't you want a refill?"

Despite everything that had happened, or maybe because of it, Dave did want one more glass of wine. But they'd finished off the previous bottle. Dave held it up to show him.

"You got some more in the kitchen?" Taylor asked, looking up the stairs to the first floor.

"Yeah, a really cheap bottle in the door of the fridge. Cheap, but it's cold." Dave tried to smile, to get past the fright they'd just had.

"I'll get it." Taylor hopped up with both wine glasses in his hand and headed up the stairs.

Watching until he was out of sight, Dave went to Google and typed in, "Signs of ghost possession." He became immersed in the links there, but was able to take the time to call, "It's a twist top. Easiest way to get to the libation."

With a laugh, Taylor called back, "I'll be a few minutes. I'm gonna drain the lizard."

"Okay." Dave kept an ear and eye toward the first floor as he read from one of the links.

_1\. A person possessed by a spirit may have been exposed to the possession through being in a place rumored to be haunted, and especially by using a tool designed for spirit communication, like a Ouija board or automatic writer, without any kind of spiritual protection._

Ouch. Dave winced. Number 1, check. If Taylor was possessed, it was his fault.

_2\. The possessed person may hear voices directing them to do things they've never considered doing._

_3\. The possessed person may often see or sense images of the ghost as they appeared in life._

Taylor, is anyone telling you to hurt yourself? Do you see some dude with brown hair carrying around a head? Dave shuddered at the thought. That's who they were dealing with, weren't they? The man Jordyn saw in the bathroom?

_There was a head, a severed head in the bathtub, trailing blood down the drain._

_IM NOT WELCOME THERE_

Dave shuddered again.

_4\. The spirit possessed person may experience times of unconsciousness, called blackouts, where they do things they later don't remember doing. This is also referred to as missing time._

Like victims of alien abduction. Or drunks.

_5\. The spirit possessed person may act in ways that are strange for them. They may seem like a different person. Often, they will not remember family and friends who should be familiar to them, events of their own lives, or skills and careers they have learned._

That was it! This would be Dave's perfect litmus test to see if Taylor had been possessed by the ghost. What were the odds this dead guy could play the drums and sing?

_6\. The possessed person may begin to speak in tongues, commit lewd sexual acts, and scream when encountering religious symbols. If so, they are probably demon possessed instead of ghost possessed._

Uh, what if lewd sexual acts were the norm for the possessed person? The author of this website hadn't heard the story of Taylor and Alison chasing each other on the highway, flashing each other from their cars. Dave had certainly heard it enough (and seen enough of the aftermath).

Dave heard the hall bathroom toilet flush above his head, then the sound of Taylor's footfalls in the kitchen. The fridge opened, wine was poured, and the fridge closed again. There was a long, quiet pause.

Dave read the last number in the website list.

_7\. The worst case scenario besides demonic possession is that the ghost may find their return to life unsatisfying and seek adventure in amoral and/or illegal activities. They must use the body they are possessing to commit these acts, dragging their host down with them. In these cases, there is great risk of suicide._

Sighing, Dave changed the site he was supposed to be looking at to one about homegrown exorcisms and put his phone down on the table, pushing his hair behind his ears with both hands. He heard glasses clinking and Taylor finally coming down the stairs. "Here's yours," he said, handing Dave a glass of red wine.

"Thanks, Tee." Dave took a big gulp. Mm, frosty. "Um, hey... can I ask you something?"

Taylor's eyes darted about for a second before he answered, "What?"

"The ghost... I saw him trying to possess you. I'm afraid he got in there and you just don't realize it."

Sipping his wine, Taylor laughed a little. "Wouldn't I know it if there was some other person in my body?"

"A spirit who would possess a live person will try to hide." Not realizing he was doing it, Dave took a sip or gulp of wine whenever Taylor did; it was the power of suggestion. "Tell me, are you hearing any voices telling you do bad shit?"

With a snicker, Taylor imitated the high-pitched voice of Ralph Wiggum from _The Simpsons._ "'That's where I saw the leprechaun. He told me to burn things.'"

Dave gave him his skeptical eyebrows, scolding him. "I'm serious."

Laughing merrily, Taylor shook his head. "No, Dave, I am not hearing voices."

"What about hallucinations? Seeing anything weird? Any people you don't recognize?"

"Nope."

This was silly. Taylor seemed pretty much like himself. Grinning, Dave joked, "Feel like committing any lewd sexual acts?"

A slow, smirky smile came across Taylor's face. "Why, did you have something in mind?"

Dave didn't know if it was the alcohol or old feelings he'd been keeping bottled up coming to the surface, but that flirty look on Taylor's face sent a nice, thrilling shockwave up his back. He chuckled. "I think we've both had enough of this." Finishing off his glass of wine, Dave picked up his phone and attempted to read one of the sites he'd found through his search.

Taylor seemed very interested in what Dave had there, leaning over so he could see it better. 

"Huh. We're going to need a bunch of supplies for this exorcism. I better call Petra in the morning." Blinking, then rubbing his eyes, Dave realized he was not only slurring his words, but his vision had become blurry. "Woo. I'm gonna have to call it a night, my friend. That cheap wine went straight to my head."

A little grin touching his lips, Taylor said, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just kinda drunk." He giggled, his phone slipping out of his hand and onto the table. 

"You want some help?"

"Um, yeah!" The words came out too loud and boisterous. Dave was feeling pretty damn good, all warm inside, but also very dizzy. "Just be my pinball machine. Hover, you know, around me on my way to the bedroom and when I start hitting the walls, bounce me back in the right direction."

Taylor snickered hard in reaction. "Okay, can you get up?"

"Yeah." Standing up too fast, Dave wobbled in place, trying to decide if it would be a good idea to hold onto the table. The room spun and doubled itself around him. "Whoa. Whoa. Okay. Watch me go!" He took one step and collapsed to the floor.

"Whoa man, you alright?" Taylor crouched down beside him, a hand on his arm.

Lying on his side, Dave tried briefly to get up, but his body felt full of lead weights. He could only look up at Taylor feebily. "I can't do stairs right now. Will you help me to the couch?" Dave gestured to the couch against one wall behind him.

"Sure." Taylor drawled the word out, sweet and syrupy. "You are really drunk, huh? I guess I gotta get you to bed." He let out a small laugh and then did something very strange. While looking down at his friend with a predatory grin, Taylor ran a thumbtip over Dave's lips, as if he was curious how soft they were.

Dave was only partially conscious of this act; the world was rapidly swimming away from him. The last thing he remembered was the sensation of Taylor stroking his hair before he passed out. That and the light shining off Taylor's eyes.

His blue eyes.


	3. The Pretender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're not Taylor, are you?"
> 
> The stranger rolled his eyes and giggled. "Duh."

Dave was blind in his dream.

He could see nothing but blackness, but he could feel and hear some things. He remembers the sensation of his feet dragging across the hardwood floor. He remembers hearing Taylor's voice say, "Oh God, how did you do this? It's fucking Dave Grohl. Oh thank you, thank you," and then the sensation of Taylor hugging him around the chest, lingering to cuddle for a time period Dave could not have measured. He floated for a while in a field of warmth. Soothing, black, and warm. Soothing, black, and warm. Eventually, the solitude was interrupted by new sensations, feelings that were pleasurable. Fingers stroking his balls, moving to circle his cock, get it hard. Dave wanted to touch this person back, run his fingers through their hair as they ran a tongue around the head of his dick, but he couldn't raise his arm, it was too heavy. Somewhere, a chain rattled. A warm, wet cavern took his cock in and sucked it. Mmmnnnn, it felt good. This felt different, far more insistent and aggressive than when Jordyn sucked him off. Harder, stronger. This was a _man_ giving him head, wasn't it? Oh shit... _so good._

It was Taylor. Somehow he knew, it was Taylor.

Dave strained to move, to arch into it, to stroke Taylor anywhere he could reach, but again, his body felt too heavy. It was simply not possible to move; his muscles wouldn't respond. Dave heard himself make a small, brief moaning sound - it was all he could manage - and Taylor answered with a muffled moan of his own, one much longer and pronounced than the one Dave had made. Oh, he sounded _so sweet._ Dave had wanted this for so long, he wanted to participate more, why couldn't he see? Frustrating.

An orgasm rippled through his whole body. Dave felt it as waves of pleasure and waves of that soothing blackness. Another small sound escaped him. Then it was back to the field where he floated on a warm mist, the sound of Taylor panting following him down. "I love you so much," Taylor said from a faraway tunnel. These sounds and sensations faded away.

The next feeling he became conscious of was an achy pain in his shoulders. Dave raised his head very slowly; it felt heavy. Even his eyelids resisted movement. He felt groggy and slow to react. This feeling reminded him of how he felt after surgery.

Like he was waking from a deep, induced sleep.

Dave's eyes came open and he saw he was lying on the suede chaise lounge in the art room. He and Jordyn had outfitted the room with a few pieces of furniture and a modest flat screen TV so people could sit and look at their collection as well as watch the occasional movie the couple found too good not to share. It was a room for their more business-related parties, although a great deal of the time everyone wound up in the backyard with the grill and a lot of beer, telling stories. Dave did love to grill.

The chaise had been chosen based on how nice suede felt and that it was long enough to accommodate Dave's tall frame. The part under his knees was slightly raised; he had always liked that because it was comfortable. Being a simple chaise lounge, there was a back but no arms, so Dave's arms and hands had always wound up hanging off the sides, fingers fumbling around with any part of the undercarriage of the chaise they could reach. Long ago, he had torn a hole in the interfacing and found a steel bar that was part of the chaise's frame that was fun to thump with his nails; it made a nice sound. Jordyn had freaked when she found that hole - he insisted one of the kids must've done it. Dave realized he could feel that steel bar now with the tips of his fingers when he wiggled them. His arms had been hanging off the sides too long, and that's why his shoulders hurt.

When he moved to flex and stretch the soreness out of his arms, a chain rattled. Dave yanked hard, only to find that his wrists were shackled to the bar with what felt like handcuffs with a longer than normal chain. His eyes widened. "What the fuck?" he said out loud. His speech was still a little slurred.

Dave remembered drinking a lot of wine. How long ago had that been? He looked down at himself. His tattoos stood out plainly as someone had removed his shirt. His pants were gone too, showing off just boxers. Frustrated and confused, Dave pulled on the handcuffs, shifting them around, trying to twist his hands to just the right angle to slip his wrists out, but none of it worked. He was pretty sure the handcuff chain had been wrapped around the steel bar to make it impossible for him to shimmy himself off the chaise. _What. The. Fuck?_

Dave looked around the room. On the opposite wall was the faithful old couch, a light brown comfy-as-shit pile of softness that was great for naps. Next to one side of it was the statue, _The Conduit_. As his eyes passed around the room, Dave took in the various paintings on the wall, the mirror (called _Enchanted Reflections_ ) hung across a corner, the brightly-painted wooden carousel horse that the girls loved so much, the end table next to him, the fireplace with flat screen TV hung above it, a long table with another mirror hung above it and, usually, valuable ceramics placed upon it, and two comfy, padded rolling chairs for additional party seating. Only, the table had been cleared off and pulled out from the wall, the vases and small statues lined up against it, so he and Taylor could use the table for their "séance."

Taylor. Where was Taylor? Was he okay?

Bolted into the wall around most of the room was a horizontal metal bar, one that told anyone looking at the paintings to keep a polite distance, don't touch. This had been installed mostly for the benefit of the children when they were allowed in this room, and worked pretty well; they were told to stand at least as far from the wall as the bar was and not to put their hands beyond it, and they would be allowed to touch and sit on the carousel horse as a reward. Yes, it worked pretty well.

Someone, though, didn't respect those boundaries, as evidenced by the thick yellow rope loosely wrapped around the bar now. It appeared as though someone had considered using the bar to tie someone down on the couch and had abandoned that idea, leaving the rope discarded there. A room usually comfortable and familiar to him, Dave now found it veiled in shadow, only a small nightlight left burning near the stairs that lead up to the rest of the house. Even the carousel horse gave him the side eye.

He wanted to panic while thinking this thing through. What did he remember? Dave remembered drinking too much and passing out very suddenly. He remembered Taylor crouching over him. He remembered having a dream that...

...that Taylor was giving him a blowjob. A very good, satisfying blowjob.

No. That couldn't have been real. Taylor would never do something like that. Dave wasn't really conscious at the time. That would be like rape.

So where was Taylor? What had happened to him?

Dave's frightened mind cooked up a horrible, panicked scenario that someone, or multiple someones, had broken into the house and subdued Taylor. They had cuffed Dave down to the chaise lounge while he was unconscious and had thought about tying Taylor to the bar, but then changed their minds. If they were the kind of people who got off on blowing an unconscious man, what were they now doing to Taylor somewhere else in the house?

Dave listened very carefully. He didn't hear anything out of the ordinary.

There wasn't anything else he could do. Dave began to yell for help. "Taylor! Taaaaylooooor! Where are you? Are you okay? Taylor answer me, please! TAAAAAYLOOOOOR!!"

For a few minutes, there was no response. Then he heard someone stirring in the house. Dave held his breath when this person started to walk down the stairs. He expected to see a large man, a monster, come down those stairs. But instead, he saw Taylor.

Taylor, slowly sauntering down each step, a big smirky grin on his lips. He was wearing the white silk pajamas Jordyn had given to Dave a few Christmases ago, the ones that rubbed against his dick too much and made him horny with the way they felt. They were too big for Taylor, as he was thinner than Dave, so they revealed more of his bare chest. Although he had a bit of bed hair, it was obvious Taylor had spent some time brushing it; it looked silkier than usual. Taylor leaned against the stair wall and crossed one bare foot over the other. "Hi," he said with a grin.

God, he looked good. Dave wanted to forget all the weirdness of this encounter and confess every salacious thought he'd ever had about Taylor so they maybe could make out right now. Instead, he asked, "Taylor, are you okay? What the hell's going on?"

Still grinning like he knew something, Taylor walked toward him, keeping one hand hidden behind his back. "I'm fine. You woke me up a little earlier than I thought you would, but that's alright. We need to talk anyway." He sat down on the side of the chaise lounge, pressed in close to Dave's side. "You need to pee?"

"Of course. Taylor, what the fuck are you doing? Uncuff me. Did you do this?! This isn't your kind of prank."

Taylor chuckled. "You really haven't figured it out yet?" He seemed to stuff something in the back of his waistband to free up both hands, then reached down under the chaise and took out a plastic urinal jug. A chill moved up Dave's back. Taylor had prepared for all this during the night? "I'll help you pee into this, and then we can talk. Do you have to take a dump too?"

Dave scoffed. "No."

"Well, that's to be expected. Okay, I hope my hands aren't cold." With little ado, Taylor took the cap off the jug, pulled down Dave's boxer shorts enough to take out his dick, and put it in the mouth of the jug. At first, Dave shuddered, but then he took advantage of the jug and relieved himself. Taylor did this very clinically and matter-of-fact, as if it was old hat. When Dave was done, Taylor screwed the cap on the jug and put it on the floor, then looked at Dave's dick, still exposed, considering what he could do next. Dave swallowed hard. Something was very wrong here. Then Taylor put him back in his underwear and looked at Dave with a smile.

He sighed. "Please, can you tell me what's going on? Taylor? Tee? My shoulders really hurt and I'd like to go to bed."

Taylor looked on him with a bit of sympathy. "I'm sorry it has to be this way for now, but you still don't understand what's happened. I can't risk how you might react. But, we can be friends in this, Dave. You'll get used to the changes eventually." He leaned to one side a little, letting the pajama top fall slightly off his shoulder. "Can we have a serious talk? Will you be completely honest with me?"

Taylor was being coquettish. It was crazy to think so, but could all this be about the nature of their relationship? With another sigh, Dave said, "Yeah."

"Do you have feelings for me? Romantic feelings?" Taylor looked at him through strands of his hair, grinning a little, kittenish.

Dave looked anywhere else, trying to decide if he should tell the truth. Years of denial and emotional pain welled up and he wanted to cry as he said, "Yes."

Smiling wider, Taylor replied, "I thought so. I've wondered about you for years. So are you bisexual?"

Dave felt naked in the doctor's office, waiting for a really painful test to be performed. "I guess there would have to be some tendencies there." He swallowed down his apprehension. "What about you? Do you... how do you..."

"How do I feel about you? Oh, Dave, do you really not know?" Leaning forward, taking his time, Taylor brushed his lips against the other man's, slowly. Dave shivered all over at the welcome, intimate contact. Was this really happening? Taylor pressed his mouth into Dave's, who kissed back, and they shared a long, passionate kiss. When it was broken, Dave couldn't help but let out a small moan.

Dave said out loud what he'd been thinking. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Me either. I've wondered about your sexuality since you were in Nirvana. There just seemed to be something going on there." He tilted his head again. "Tell me something, and please answer honestly."

Still flying and trying to quiet the butterflies inside, Dave said, "Okay." He didn't really want to talk, he wanted to kiss some more.

"Did anything ever happen between you and Kurt? Like, did the two of you ever..." Taylor waved his hand back and forth between his body and Dave's, implying a sexual relationship.

Dave's entire body went numb, feeling cold inside. The denial he'd been in since he woke up was completely shattered. He knew exactly what had happened. It all made sense now. Taylor would never ask him that question so casually. In fact, knowing how painful the subject was for Dave, Taylor would never ask him that question, period. "Could you turn on that light?" he asked, nodding his head toward the lamp on the side table.

Furrowing his brow, Taylor said, "Okay," and switched on the light.

Although he saw exactly what he'd expected to, Dave still gasped. Now that the light was no longer dim, he could see that Taylor's eyes were blue. Not the cobalt blue of Kurt's eyes, but an ordinary shade of medium blue. But Taylor's eyes weren't blue. They were hazel brown. Dave swallowed hard, trying not to panic. "You're not Taylor, are you?"

The stranger rolled his eyes and giggled. "Duh."


	4. Erase/Replace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is Taylor's body. You want to touch this body, don't you?"

"You're not Taylor, are you?"

The stranger rolled his eyes and giggled. "Duh." He shook his head as if wondering how it took Dave so long to figure it out.

"Motherfucking..." _Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic._ "You're the ghost. The ghost that was in that statue. I didn't get there in time. You possessed Taylor and you've been in there since..." Things began to fall into place. Horrific, frightening place. "That's what felt off about him. Not even his face looked right, because they were your eyes, not Taylor's."

Placing a finger on his nose, he pointed at Dave said, "Ding, ding, ding, ding, we have a winner."

Now Dave was getting angry. "You're not Taylor, you're Nicky."

Nicky nodded with his stolen body.

"You got me the wine out of the fridge. And... you drugged it, didn't you? I don't know what you put in it, but I passed out too fast. You... you drugged me."

Slow clapping sarcastically, Nicky confessed, "You figured that part out a lot sooner than I thought you would. Yes, I put Morphecil in it. You had some in the medicine cabinet. Score!" Nicky clapped his hands together loudly, making Dave jump. "Strong sleep aid and tranquilizer. Alcohol intensifies the effect. Administer the right dose and it knocks the patient out for several hours."

"Patient?"

Nicky nodded again. "I was a nurse. You know, before..." He ran a finger across his neck.

"Why would you do that?" Dave asked, sounding hurt. This man, whoever he was, had already used Taylor's body to do several fucked up things. Dave could hardly bear the thought.

Repeating himself, Nicky said, "Duh. It's not like you're going to accept me stealing your friend's body." He rubbed Taylor's chest provocatively. "Not at first."

"I would NEVER accept that," Dave said, nearly spitting. "You get the fuck out and go back to Hell where you came from."

Laughing, Nicky leaned in, almost as close as he'd been when they kissed. "Make me."

Dave couldn't do anything but sit there and seethe. As an afterthought, he yanked hard on the handcuffs, making the chain rattle sharply.

Nicky chuckled darkly. "You're sexy when you're angry." He made a show of stretching Taylor's body, letting the pajama top fall off one shoulder and then the other, shifting it around so it still hung loosely from his shoulders. "It's weird. When I was alive, you were so young, and now... if I did my math right, you're nearly fifty! Is that right?"

Dave didn't speak, just gave a curt nod.

"Hmm. You look really different, but still the same." Nicky shook his head. "I can't believe it's early 2017. I was trapped in that mannequin for a long time."

Looking at the statue, Dave could see that its eyes were still black. "If you're in there, then where is Taylor?"

"He's in here, but I put him to sleep."

The reply horrified Dave. Put him to sleep? "How'd you do that? Slip him some Morphecil?"

Nicky just snickered.

Either way, this gave him some hope. Taylor was still in there. If he could be put to sleep, then maybe Dave could wake him up. "What do you think you're going to accomplish here? Do you really think I'm going to let you keep my best friend's body?"

"Is that who he is to you? Besides someone you want to make love to."

Dave winced, closing his eyes for a moment.

Nicky continued. "You could have that, you know. This is Taylor's body." He unfastened a couple of the buttons on the pajama top and put his hand in, stroking his stomach and chest. "You want to touch this body, don't you?"

Trying not to watch, Dave lashed out at the ghost inside his friend. "Shut the fuck up, Nicky."

This made him smile. "You do. And soon, you'll beg me to make love to this body. I'll make you want it. Maybe you might want to make love to me too."

"Don't hold your fucking breath."

"Now you're starting to hurt my feelings. I wouldn't do too much of that." He sat up a little straighter. "Tell me this. You and this guy have plane tickets to Hawaii on Wednesday. Why are you going there?"

So the little fucker had been going through their packed suitcases. Dave wanted to drag this asshole out of Taylor's body and punch him in the face, if a ghost could be punched. "I'm not talking to you."

"Really?" Nicky reached into the back of the pajama pants and brought out a gun. Dave recognized it. It was the handgun he'd bought for Jordyn to use for protection when he was away on tour. The fucker really had been going through their stuff. Nicky surprised him by putting the gun to Taylor's chin. "You cooperate and answer my questions or I'll blow Taylor's head off."

Gasping, Dave babbled, "No, no, DON'T!"

"And don't think I won't do it. I can always find another body to possess."

"God, no, please!" Dave almost began to cry.

"Are you going to answer my questions? Will you behave?"

"Yes, anything!"

"Okay." Nicky lowered the gun. "Now, Hawaii."

"Our families are already there. We stayed here to deal with you and are supposed to join them there for vacation on Wednesday. It's the kids' Spring Break," Dave explained quickly. "Now will you please put that gun away?"

Nicky put the gun back in his waistband. "Alright then. That gives me three days to figure this whole thing out. Three days before anybody misses you." He sat back, thinking.

Looking him over, Dave scowled and said, "I guess this is all really gooch for you, huh?"

"Really what?"

"Wow, you are so not Taylor. Really gooch, really great. You get to live again in a whole new body. All you have to do is steal it."

"Yeah, I lucked out, didn't I? I mean, this guy is Dave Grohl's best friend. And Taylor's loaded! And talented, and kinda handsome. I could've done worse." He touched Dave's chest. "I've searched Taylor's mind a bit since I've been in here. I don't know everything yet, but I'm pretty sure he has feelings for you too. You already knew something about his bisexual tendencies, right?"

Eyes softening with hurt, Dave nodded, not meeting Nicky's gaze.

"I thought so. He could really love you, you know." Nicky traced the tattoo on the left side of Dave's chest, the black tribal design, with his finger. "I already love you, Dave Grohl. We could work something out, the three of us."

The idea made Dave's skin crawl. This nut thought he could stay in Taylor's body and they could all live together in harmony? Dave had to learn who he was dealing with, so he could figure out how to get rid of him. "Who are you, Nicky? You said during the séance that I might recognize your name."

Looking down, Nicky seemed embarrassed and reluctant to explain. "I don't think you're ready for that yet. But I will give you some hints." He thought about what he wanted to say before speaking again. "My trial on Court TV was the sensation of 1993. You might've watched some of it. People looked at my demeanor in court and thought I didn't care about anything, but there were definite things I cared about. The way the media treated my family, for one thing. I heard about it every day from my dad. About how my mother couldn't sleep and my grandmother with Alzheimer's was terrified of all the strangers who kept milling around outside the house. People wouldn't leave them alone. They chased my brother and sister through parking lots when they tried to shop... she had to leave school... people said the most unkind things to them, as if they had done something. My grandmother died in fear. The press and idiot strangers killed her with the stress they caused her. Yes, I have a lot of feelings about that."

"I guess you shouldn't have committed your big sensational crime, then," Dave said. It might be an ill-advised comment to make, but he couldn't help but make it.

Nicky started to get angry. "Oh, so you think people were totally justified in harassing my family?"

Dave shook his head. "I never said that."

"And you better not, if you know what's good for you."

Dave didn't like having to take threats like that and not be able to shoot back a sarcastic barb, but the real person Nicky was threatening was Taylor. Taylor, who would be shot in the head if Dave ran his mouth too much. "I'm sorry people were so cruel to your family."

"Oh right, you don't care." Nicky looked down, digging at a scab on Taylor's finger. He pouted like a small child.

"No, I really do care. It sounds awful. They didn't deserve to be mistreated just because they were related to you."

Considering this for a moment, Nicky finally leaned forward and hugged Dave around the chest, laying his head over the other man's heart. "Thank you for saying that. You're such a good person."

The idea of this man hugging him like that turned his stomach. Dave had to pretend it was Taylor to keep from screaming for him to let go. A sensational trial? Court TV? Throngs of people and press hanging out on the lawn? Who the hell was this guy? What had he done?

_And he's possessing Taylor oh God get him out get him out get him out!_

Nicky did not sit up, just kept talking into Dave's chest. "I was murdered in prison two years after Kurt killed himself."

Did this asshole measure his entire life by Nirvana?

"Before I died, I got to watch you rise like a phoenix from the ashes of Nirvana and start your career all over again. It was glorious. You were beautiful. And I wanted you." He sat up. "I've been in love with you a lot longer than that, but if a person could fall in love twice, that was my moment. My special moment with you."

_Holy crap..._ "I'm glad I could inspire you."

Nicky looked at him, admiring him, a lovesick look in his eyes.

"So, you were giving me hints?"

Nicky tried to think of more references so Dave would have to give it some thought. He liked the idea of Dave putting a lot of thought into him. "During my trial, a man became very angry and started yelling at me. It made the national news." He positioned his hands as if he was holding onto an invisible podium. "Goddamn you, you bastard! Goddamn you! What you did to my son!"

Dave winced at how loudly he was yelling, but also at the intensity in his voice, the emotion. Something about this sounded familiar.

Nicky continued, "If I could get a hold of you right now, I would rip off your head and shit down your neck, you piece of shit! No, no, don't stop me! Don't hold me back! He deserves to die!" The veins stood out in his neck and his hands had begun to shake.

"Nicky!" Dave cried. "Calm down, okay? I get it." He watched the guy shake, breathing hard, and hoped he wouldn't lose anymore control of himself. "Did this moment upset you?"

Panting, Nicky took a minute to compose himself. "It was a moment of clarity. You don't often have to face people you've hurt like that."

"What did you do to his son?"

Looking down, Nicky shook his head. "I'm not sure I want you to know now. Maybe it's better if you don't. If you figure it out for yourself, then..." He tried to smile. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I don't want to talk about that anymore."

Either way, Dave wanted this ghost out of his friend's body, but he still needed to know what Nicky had done. Could this be as bad as it seemed? Had Nicky murdered someone? Was a _murderer_ possessing his friend? "What do you want to talk about?"

"You," Nicky purred. "I took a little time while you were out to look at what you've done since my death. You've had a long, successful career. In fact, I would say you're pretty amazing. There wasn't time to listen to everything, but what I did hear was _so good_."

"Thank you." Dave remembered Kurt once saying that he didn't want certain types of people to be fans of his music; he knew exactly how Kurt felt now. "The guy whose body you're trying to steal helped make most of those albums really great."

"He's your drummer, right? And he can sing." Nicky touched Dave's chest again, stroking lightly. Dave looked down at his hand with steely eyes. "Please don't be like that about it. We can all learn to live together."

His head swimming with objections, Dave tried to remember that he was dealing with not only a nutjob, but a dead nutjob. "Nicky... come on..."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, you take some time to think about it. Okay? Just think about it." His demeanor became playful again, hand passing over Dave's right nipple. "I would've never figured you for being so into tattoos. And being such a big fan of bands like Led Zeppelin and Rush. You're practically a closet metalhead," Nicky laughed.

Dave shrugged, eyeing the hand on his chest. "I've been out of that closet for a long time."

"But not the one in which you fantasize about your drummer. Right? Tell me what you want to do to him. If you had the chance, what would you do?"

Now Dave was shaking his head. "No. I don't want to talk about that stuff with you."

"But you have that chance now. I'll let you do whatever you want."

"No!" Dave cried. "Taylor can't consent. It would be rape."

Looking on him with lovesick admiration, eyes soft and vulnerable, Nicky said again, "You are such a good person."

Those _eyes_. Whenever Taylor gave him a look like that, Dave wanted to give him whatever he wanted.

Nicky leaned forward and kissed Dave's cheek, then moved to kiss his mouth. Reluctant, Dave accepted the kiss, but only a little, pulling back when Nicky tried to make it a deeper one. When he sat up straighter, Dave could see that his eyes were brown.

His heart skipped a beat. "Taylor?!"

He leaned in and kissed Dave again, and this time it felt different. Softer, not as aggressive, as if the person kissing him was unsure if Dave wanted to kiss him. Dave melted into the kiss. It came from Taylor. Somehow, it came from Taylor! Taylor ran his hands down Dave's sides, caressing him, and for a moment, they shared a passionate kiss, with no one else there.

When Taylor sat back, Dave quickly said, "Taylor, are you awake? You have to uncuff me! Quick, before..." He trailed off as his heart sank. The other man's eyes were blue again. "What... what just happened?"

"I wanted to show you how I can let Taylor out for a short time without losing control. He doesn't really know what's happening. He thinks it's a dream, a fantasy. As you can see, this is something Taylor really wants with you."

Nicky's explanation should have made him at least a little happy, but all Dave could think about was Taylor, shackled up in his own mind, living a nightmare he wasn't even aware of. This monster was stealing not only Taylor's body, but intimate moments he and Taylor should have shared alone. This was a thing they could have talked out with their wives, had basically already discussed with them, but this? This they could never get back. "It's not the same. It's not the same and you know it."

Nicky began to rub lightly around Taylor's cock through the pajama pants, already moaning softly. Dave gasped, watching as his eyes continuously and rapidly changed from blue to hazel brown, hazel brown to blue. Like Taylor was also there, masturbating willingly for him. Taylor, Nicky, whoever stroked at himself with more vigour, throwing his head back and moaning, "Dave."

His mouth open, feeling helpless, Dave said, "Don't. Don't, please." Still, he couldn't take his eyes off the hand easing Taylor's cock out of the pajama pants, caressing his balls and stroking his shaft until he began to become hard. Dave whimpered, feeling his dick react to the sights and sounds of Taylor touching himself, the moans and heavy breaths. "God, please stop."

"You don't want me to stop, not really, Dave. Do you?" Taylor/Nicky stroked himself harder, faster. "Do you want to see me cum?"

"Oh fuck yes," Dave breathed. He couldn't help but get aroused by this show. It was Taylor's face flushed with excitement, Taylor's cock, Taylor's hand, Taylor's voice...

"Do you want to get off with me?"

Squirming on the chaise lounge, Dave moaned, "Uh huh." How quickly this had escalated. Just the thought that Taylor might want him...

Taylor/Nicky grinned and pulled Dave's boxer shorts down. He found Dave more than halfway there and started to stroke him fast and with aggression, hoping they could cum together.

"Uhhh!" Dave cried out at that first touch.

They writhed in place, two backs arched, two hands pumping in time, two mouths moaning each other's names. "Oh Taylor, Taylor, mmm..."

"Dave... I love you."

"I love you too, Tee."

Taylor's whole face frowned in hurt, but it was not Taylor who felt that way. He kept both hands going 'til Dave let out a breathy howl and came on his own chest, dotting his tattoos with pearls. Taylor and Nicky came a few seconds later, spraying Dave's side and the chaise with white ropes. They didn't move much for roughly a minute, trying to catch their breath.

His eyes fully blue, Nicky leaned over and licked most of the cum off Dave's chest, lapping it up in broad strokes of his tongue. Then he grabbed either side of Dave's head and forced him into a kiss. Dave wasn't sure who he was kissing, so he kissed back, even accepting the other man's tongue in his mouth. They could both taste the evidence of what they had just done in Nicky's borrowed mouth.

He broke the kiss; they were both still panting a bit. "One day, you will cry out for me instead," Nicky declared. He fixed his pants and then Dave's underwear, covering them both up before pulling out the gun. "You remember I have this." With that, Nicky hurried up the stairs.

Dave watched the white and blonde blur retreat back to the world outside this room. "Wait! We need to talk! ..... Come back!"

He waited, but Nicky did not come back. After a short time, Dave fell asleep. A troubled sleep.

In the dream, this time, he could see.

Dave was starting to realize that these dreams felt different. Like when he saw into Taylor's mindscape, he was really there. There was a strong, real connection between their psyches. How this happened, he didn't know, but he could really reach Taylor here if he could figure out how.

He found Taylor asleep in a large bed with snow white sheets. Taylor slept with no shirt on, blonde hair spread out over the pillows; he looked like an angel. Dave leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Taylor let out a small groan. "Dave," he said, tossing fitfully in the bed.

"He knows you're in danger," a familiar voice said from nearby.

Dave looked behind him. It was Kurt.

"Kurt..." Dave rushed to him and hugged Kurt to him. Kurt hugged him back. Then they just looked at each other before anyone spoke again. "I haven't dreamed of you in a long time."

"I couldn't let you deal with this alone. You don't know what death is like." Kurt looked behind him to a couch before a television, one of the old tube TVs that predated flat screens. Courtney sat on the couch next to the spot that Kurt would usually occupy, and on the floor Dave saw his younger self, sitting and leaning against the couch, smoking a cigarette. In fact, in the ashtray was three cigarettes; they were all smoking.

"Do you remember this?" Kurt asked. "You need to."

"We were watching something on TV?"

"Yeah. Come see." Kurt vaulted himself over the back of the couch, landing in his spot and picking up his cigarette, taking a drag.

"What a fucking psycho," Courtney remarked, looking at the TV.

Dave moved toward the couch, but stopped at the sight of two young boys sitting behind it. They were hunched over some Hot Wheels cars and something else, something that wriggled in pain, flailing its six legs. It was a beetle, and one of the boys had impaled it with a stick.

"Aw, let it go, Nicky. You're hurting it," one boy said to the other.

"That's the point," Nicky said with a snicker. Then he leaned back, an apprehensive look on his face. "You won't tell my dad, will you?"

There were at least three minds linked here. Taylor's, Dave's, and the ghost's. Dave could see Nicky's memories as well as his own.

A voice stole his attention from the two boys. Dave heard his younger self say, "Can you believe how he's just sitting there like he can't even hear all these people ragging on him?"

"He's a fucking psycho," Courtney repeated.

Shaking his head, Kurt said, "I usually like gay people, but for this asshole, I'll make an exception."

Older Dave covered his mouth. He remembered this now. No, no, no, it couldn't be. He had been watching a trial on Court TV with Kurt and Courtney. The families of the criminal's victims were reading statements to him as he sat there, showing little emotion. Statements of how he had impacted their lives.

Kurt looked back at older Dave. "You gotta figure out how to wake that guy up," he said, gesturing with his head toward Taylor sleeping in the bed. "Otherwise..." Kurt ran a finger over his neck, making a cutting noise.

On the television, the father of one of the victims held onto the podium with a death grip. " _BLEEP_ you, you bastard! _BLEEP_ you! What you did to my son! If I could get a hold of you right now, I would rip off your head and _BLEEP_ down your neck, you piece of _BLEEP_!" He started to charge at the man who had murdered his son; the bailiffs held him back. "No, no, don't stop me! Don't hold me back! He deserves to die!"

Dave woke up with a start. The family cat Oogly had been sleeping, curled up, on his chest; now the pretty calico meowed, startled, and ran from the room. Dave couldn't move for a minute, just laid there panting as he tried to keep control of his rising, blind panic.

He knew who was possessing Taylor. It was far, far worse than he could have imagined.

The ghost inside his best friend was Austin Nicholas Kelly.

The serial killer.

 

**Author's Notes:** I'm recycling my own title here; I originally used this title for a piece of fanart for a "Supernatural" reverse big bang. In that case, the door was literal. This time, it's symbolic. I just really like the title. :D It has a certain amount of action and command to it.

The spelling "Baub" has a story behind it. I met actress Brooke Theiss at Texas Frightmare Weekend. That year, they had started having you write your name on a Post-It so the celebs would be sure to spell your name right on your autograph. Brooke was very friendly and talkative, so I said to her that I thought it was a great idea that they were having us write our names on the sticky notes, especially since I have a name like Laurel, which people often misspell. She said she hates to misspell fans' names so much that she will even ask them how they spell "Bob." I replied, "Excuse me, my name is not spelled B-O-B, I spell it B-A-U-B." The guy behind me thought it was pretty funny. ;) At that moment, I vowed I would have a pretentious character in a story who insisted on spelling his name that way because it's just too funny. I honestly think spelling it Baub is halfway between cool and insufferable. :D

If you watch any interviews and live footage of Dave and Taylor, you may notice that they sometimes call each other by the nicknames D and T, the initials of their names. Awww! ^_^ I used that in this story, but I spell them out as Dee and Tee because I think it looks better, especially in dialogue.

Austin Nicholas Kelly does not really exist. I made him up. He's not named after anyone I know in real life; I was playing off the idea that serial killers seem to often be called by all three names and it sounds best to my ear if the middle name has three syllables. I also wanted a middle name that could be shortened into a cutesy nickname. That's how I chose Nicholas/Nicky.

Many things about Nicky were inspired by real life serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer. Originally, it was going to actually be Dahmer possessing Taylor in this story, but I decided that would be waaaay too much.

The phrase "Soothing, black, and warm" comes from one of my favorite shows of all time, "Degrassi High." A pretentious character named Claude (pronounced Clode *eye roll*) has been writing suicidal poems about death which contain this phrase. There was something about the phrase that I found funny and interesting at the same time, and I love to include references to things I love in my stories, so I'm going to fit the phrase in wherever I can. :D

Also made up Morphecil. When you need a drug to affect a character a certain way, sometimes it's just easier to create one.

Oogly is the name of a cat seen on the reality show "Ghost Brothers." Oogly, awwwww! So cute! I had to use it.

The chapter titles will all be titles of Foo songs and songs by Taylor Hawkins and the Coattail Riders.


	5. How I Miss You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt's breath quavered, and he stroked Dave's hair. "Do you know what kind of memories I'm looking for to distract Kelly?"

The mantra that repeated itself over and over in Dave's head, _don't panic, don't panic, don't panic,_ simply wasn't working. Taylor was possessed by the ghost of a serial killer. A very disturbed serial killer (Was there any other kind?) who had walked out of the house in the middle of the night and bought supplies to hold Dave captive. Where else had the handcuffs come from? What other stuff had he purchased with Taylor's money?

Did he encounter anyone while out and about, besides the sales clerks? Had Nicky... did he already feel the itch to... to kill again? What if... and who would be blamed for that?

Dave couldn't help it; he panicked. He began to pull at the handcuffs as hard as he could until he was panting with the effort. No matter how hard he tried, Dave could not slip his hands out or get the chain to break. The metal bar in the chaise lounge's framework wouldn't even begin to bend or budge. Something popped in one of Dave's wrists and it hurt too much to continue. His wrists were already aching and rubbed raw anyway, so he finally gave up with an angry cry, struggling and kicking his legs in frustration.

"Goddamn motherfucking bastard damn you to hell suck my motherfucking cock you limpdick asshole! Grrrrrraaaaaarrrrgh!" Dave yanked at the handcuffs and flailed on the chaise angrily, screaming, until he collapsed in tears, sobbing bitterly for the situation he was in. And for Taylor. He wanted Taylor back... especially before Nicky used his body to hurt someone.

Oogly came back, walking up Dave's chest and rubbing her face against his chin, then licking at his tears, purring. Dave, sniffling, had to laugh. "Hey Oogly. What's that, girl? Timmy's trapped in the well?" The cat continued to rub against Dave's beard with content, rumbling purrs. Dave suddenly remembered the dream, and the two kids with the impaled beetle. "Hey Oogly, if Taylor does anything weird, like try to hurt you, I want you to run and hide, okay? He's not himself right now." He wished he could pet the cat and scratch her behind the ears, but a very strong pair of handcuffs kept him from doing so.

Spent and tired, Dave laid his head back and he and Oogly fell asleep together. He encountered the snow white bed again with Taylor out cold in the middle, nothing else there but a field of white light. Oogly jumped up on the bed just as Dave sat down on the edge and padded up to him. "Meow!"

Now he could pet her properly. Dave took a little time to do that, looking at Taylor with a sigh. "How do I wake you up? Taylor? Are you Sleeping Studly?" Leaning over, he kissed Taylor softly on the lips.

Nothing. Taylor inhaled sharply, but he did not wake up. The deep breath seemed to be more of a reaction to a nightmare he was having than the kiss, as he tossed in the bed right after. "Uh, no... don't..."

"Didn't like the kiss, huh? I can do better."

Taylor rolled back the other way and whimpered. "Leave him alone... stop it..." His breathing became more erratic.

"Taylor, I think you're having a nightmare. Wake up. Wake up, please!" Dave took him by the shoulders and shook him. "If you don't wake up, I'm either going to wind up the sex slave of an insane killer or dead, and he's going to use your body to do it! Please, Taylor, what do I have to do?"

Taylor gasped as he was shaken, but he remained limp and unresponsive. Although he hated to do it, Dave backhanded him across the face. In reaction, Taylor grunted, but still did not wake up.

Dave's face crumpled into tears again. He held Taylor close to his chest, stroking his hair and sobbing in fear and frustration. "I'm sorry I had to hit you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Kissing the younger man's face a few times, Dave tried to think of a way out of this. "If I can just get Nicky to uncuff me and subdue him, I can get some help and we can exorcise that bastard from your body. Then I'll have my Taylor back. Right?" He sniffled. "If I can get the gun away from - "

Somewhere nearby, there was a screechy little giggle. Dave looked around. No one else there. "Hello?"

Taylor almost whispered, "No, please, I don't want to see that. Don't, don't..." He winced in his sleep. Dave stroked his hair.

Oogly suddenly hissed and arched her back. Dave followed her line of sight to the bright red handprint on the corner of the bed, the handprint he knew hadn't been there before. A strange four-fingered handprint with claws.

There was another giggle.

His breathing quickening, Dave laid Taylor back down and slowly stood up next to the bed, looking all around. He wished Kurt was there. Someone to talk to. Not only was there serious danger in the waking world, but in the mindscape too.

"Kurt? I need your help." Dave crept away from the bed. He looked at that handprint again. Was that blood? "Kurt, please, I'm scared."

"You still want it, don't you? The heroin? It feels good."

Dave whirled around. Some sort of creature had snuck in behind him and was speaking quietly in Taylor's ear. "What would it hurt if you just had a little bit?"

Oogly hissed at the thing. It hissed back and giggled, snickery.

Dave would have described it as some sort of hairy monster. It was short, barrel-chested, and covered with black hair, small horns sticking out of its temples, with feet like a goat. Its hands were just like the handprint, with four fingers and black claws. It turned to look at Dave with yellow eyes and massive buck teeth coming out of its snickering mouth. "Don't you want to escape this nightmare, Taylor?"

"What the fuck? Get away from him!" Dave kicked it in the shin.

"Owww! Oh!" The creature moved away, circling him. "That wasn't very nice. You need everyone to like you. How will you get me to like you now?" It giggled.

"Get the fuck out of here!" When Dave ran at it, the thing retreated, scurrying away.

"Maybe a beer with breakfast would taste good, yes?" it called as it ran off, passing Kurt on its way.

"Kurt!" Confused and heartsick, Dave hurried to Kurt's side. He seemed to have some sort of link to those with greater knowledge of the afterlife and what Dave was dealing with here; maybe he could help sort some things out. "I'm so glad you came back."

"Huh?" Kurt turned from the scene he'd been watching, a couple fingers to his lips. His expression was troubled. "Oh, yeah. Hey."

Dave noticed what Kurt was looking at all at once. A scene from Dave's memories had been inserted in the middle of this field of white; the edges blended into the light like an unfinished painting barely reaching the edge of a canvas. Center stage was Taylor, younger Taylor, with shorter hair, unconscious in a hospital bed. An IV and various types of monitors were hooked up to his body.

It was the overdose. Taylor's coma, when he overdosed on heroin in 2001. Almost two weeks of hell, keeping a bedside vigil, until Taylor woke up. Dave gaped at the scene. How did this work, that Kurt could access such a thing as his memories? "Kurt... what are you doing?"

Kurt looked over at him and broke out in an embarrassed grin. "I'm sorry, Dave. I... I shouldn't be snooping. It's just that there are greater powers than you and me at work here, trying to help me help you get out of this alive. They suggested that I could try to distract Nicholas Kelly in the mindscape with some of your memories. I know you don't want that guy rooting around in your mind, but it could occupy him long enough for us to get the jump on him. I was looking for some good shit to show him and I kinda... stumbled on some painful memories. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be watching this. I'm an asshole." Scratching his head, Kurt looked away, growing sheepish.

Dave looked, watching the nurse checking vitals and writing things on a clipboard full of papers. "It's okay," he said. "You can look."

Kurt did. He sighed. "I had no idea. Taylor had a problem with heroin too?"

Nodding, Dave wondered if he had ever heard Kurt refer to his own habit as a "problem" before now. "He's been clean ever since this happened."

Kurt nodded too, and they watched the scene in silence for a short time. Dave remembered the hairy creature and what it had said. "Kurt, what the hell was that ugly thing that just ran by here?"

"Imp."

"Huh?"

"It's an imp. A type of demon, very low on the totem pole."

"Demons are real?!"

"Shit yeah." Glancing at Dave, Kurt flashed him a little smile. "They try to bring out our most self-destructive urges and weaknesses. Everybody's got at least one working on 'em." He suddenly became more serious. "Kelly had a bunch. Really big ones, badder demons, talking in his ear. All serial killers do."

Dave shivered. "Why?"

"Demons feed on pain. They want as much destruction as possible. Most of them, anyway." Kurt looked to one side with his cobalt blue eyes, thinking. Then he looked back at Dave with a determined seriousness. "You have to be careful. Those demons are here in the mindscape. Kelly's demons."

Wincing, Dave groaned, "Oh God. Those things are here, with Taylor out cold?"

Kurt, biting his bottom lip, made a promise that got Dave to relax a bit with relief. "I won't let them hurt Taylor. I'll keep them away as long as I can."

"You will? But, will you be okay?"

"They can't hurt me," Kurt laughed. He didn't explain any more.

"That's good to hear." Dave, full of questions, started to say, "Kurt, how does the 'mindscape' work? Why are we all linked together - "

But he was interrupted by the entrance of himself, his younger self, also with much shorter hair, to the hospital room. "Good morning," he said to the nurse.

"Good morning," she replied, speaking with a British accent.

Young Dave surveyed the scene before him. "Where's the ventilator?"

"We started breathing on our own last night," she said, patting Taylor's shoulder.

A grateful, almost happy smile came to Dave's face. "Really? That's a good sign."

"It's a very good sign." The nurse went to leave the room, patting Dave's shoulder on her way by too. "I'll be back, love. I have more rounds to make."

"I'll be right here." Dave watched her go, then pulled up a chair and sat by Taylor's bed. "Hey Tee. Breathing on your own, huh? Good going." He nudged Taylor's chin with his fist as if to say way to go, champ.

Taylor did not respond.

Dave took Taylor's hand out from under the sheet and kissed it, then rubbed it against his cheek. "Come on, Tee. You gotta wake up so you can catch me doing this and laugh at me. I'm a big fool. I went and fell in love with you." His voice broke with threatening tears. "I knew I cared about you a great deal, but I didn't realize that... that I loved you like this until I almost lost you." He began to cry. "Please wake up and tell me I haven't lost you for good. I'm afraid this is all just false hope, that you're never going to wake up, and the doctors will say you're brain dead, and..." Dave was crying harder now, almost unable to speak. He choked out, "Oh God, I love you, Taylor," and wept against the back of Taylor's hand, holding it between his two. "Please don't die."

Visibly saddened by what he saw, Kurt swallowed hard and asked, "You've been in love with him that long?"

Older Dave, sheepish, embarrassed, just nodded, looking down.

"Why haven't you told him?"

Shrugging, he said, "He calls me his brother. I didn't think he wanted me, and I was afraid if I told him the truth, he would leave the band."

"Now how do you feel, knowing Taylor thinks of you that way too?" Kurt asked.

With a deep breath, Dave ran his hands through his hair and replied, "I want the chance for me and Taylor to talk about it and explore these feelings without some insane murderer ruining the whole thing. I want Nicholas Kelly gone."

"Then we'll figure it out, together." Kurt moved a little closer to him. "Dave, I'm sorry for everything I put you through with the heroin and all. I've had a lot of years to reflect on the pain I caused everybody, and it was really selfish of me. Can you accept my apology?"

Astonished, Dave pulled him in for a hug. "Of course, Kurt. Of course. It's so good to hear you say that."

Kurt's breath quavered, and he stroked Dave's hair. "Do you know what kind of memories I'm looking for to distract Kelly?"

Dave pulled away far enough to see Kurt's face. He opened his mouth to take an educated guess, but noticed something he hadn't seen before. Kurt had a spiked leather collar around his neck. Attached to it was a chain, a chain that trailed off into the white field of light 'til Dave couldn't see it anymore. It occasionally rattled with a musical, metallic sound as whatever was on the other end gave the chain a little tug.

Dave's face grew concerned. "Kurt, what's with the collar? Have you been hiding it from me?"

Kurt shook his head to say he wasn't going to talk about that right now. "You've got enough to worry about without thinking of me. Let's talk about it after this is all over. Okay?"

"But..."

Shaking his head again, Kurt said, "I'm okay. Just remember, try not to upset the crazy bastard. You may have to do some things you don't want to do to keep Kelly from flying off the handle. Just pretend he's Taylor, that it's only Taylor in there, when he asks for sex. I'll do what I can from in here." A little grin touched Kurt's lips. "If you want to, you could pretend he's someone else when he asks for sex."

Dave almost blushed. "You?"

With a nod, Kurt took Dave's head in his hands and pulled him in for a deep kiss, a kiss Dave hadn't felt for over twenty years.

He woke up from the dream with a small moan. Dave could still feel the feathery touch of Kurt's lips for several long, sensual moments; he didn't realize how much he had missed those intimate experiences until now. Of course, Kurt was right. If Nicky was shown some of the memories of Kurt and Dave making out, touching, pressed against the wall, hands madly groping his ass... well, he'd become just as lost in them as Dave was right now.

"Meow!"

Dave looked down at the warm, furry weight on his chest. Oogly laid on her back on his chest and stomach, front paws hovering as she twisted her head up to look at him. "Mrow?"

"Hey Oogly. Oh... you're hungry, aren't you?" Dave shook his wrist, rattling the chain of the handcuffs. "Unfortunately, I'm a bit tied up right now. Maybe we can get..." He looked up the stairs.

The door into the kitchen was open. Daylight from the kitchen windows streamed in through the doorway. Dave listened and heard sizzling, and realized he could smell bacon frying. If he hadn't found himself still shackled up, he would have thought the whole Taylor being possessed thing had all been a horrible nightmare.

But that wasn't Taylor up there cooking breakfast. Taylor was sedated.

There came the sound of the can opener. Oogly sharply raised her head and looked at the stairs.

"Kitty kitty kitty?" Nicky called.

Oogly jumped off the chaise and raced up the stairs.

"Oogly, wait!" Dave frantically whispered. But Oogly was already gone. Beginning to pant with fear, he waited to face Nicky, now knowing what he was and what he was capable of.


	6. Walking a Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, Dave... I want to fuck you. I really need to chain you to your bed and fuck you real good."

Shortly after, Nicky bounded down the stairs with a full plate in one hand and a lap tray in the other. "Hey, you're awake," he said, and set the tray over Dave's midsection. It barely touched his stomach, and the chaise lounge was just wide enough to accommodate its sides. Nicky put the plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and two slices of toast on the tray. "I'll be right back," he said, and hurried back up the stairs.

Dave eyed the breakfast suspiciously. It smelled good, but it was made by the ghost of a fucking serial killer. One good thing, though - Nicky would have to uncuff him so he could eat it. Maybe he could book it up the stairs and -

Nicky came back with another plate and a TV tray. He unfolded the tray's stand with a flick of the wrist, set it up, and put the plate on the tray. The food on it was identical to Dave's plate except that Nicky's toast and eggs had grape jelly on them. "One last thing and we can eat."

Back up the stairs and then down and he had two glasses of orange juice in his hands. "I assume you'll like it since it came from your fridge." Nicky set the glasses down and pulled himself up a chair as close to the chaise as he could get. "Now... how's it look? I had to make assumptions based on what all you had..."

He realized Dave was staring at him, a little wide-eyed, body shaking lightly. His breathing was also a little quick. "You okay?"

Swallowing hard, Dave tried to find his voice. "You're Nicholas Kelly. You murdered people. I think it was twelve."

Nicky looked down at the floor for a few quiet moments. "Eleven," he said. "It was eleven." He looked back up. "But that can't happen to you. I wasn't in love with any of them. They were attractive, and I wanted to keep them, but all they wanted was to leave. Even if you could get free, you would never run, because you know you'd have to leave Taylor behind with me. And who knows where I'd be when you got back."

The look on Dave's face showed how upset he would be if this scenario ever did happen. Of course Nicky wouldn't stick around. Taylor would be recognized by some people, but not most, and that would give Nicky all the chances in the world to use Taylor's money to run and hide.

Cocking his head, Nicky said, "You look like you're going to cry." He reached out to touch Dave's face, but Dave jerked away from it, almost tipping over the tray. Surprised, Nicky pulled his hand back. "Hey... hey, you don't have to be afraid. Look, your food is getting cold." Nicky brought a forkful of eggs to Dave's mouth.

"Did you poison it?" Dave asked, voice shaking.

Blinking in disbelief, Nicky put the eggs in his own mouth and chewed them, spreading out his arms as if to say, "Are you serious?" He swallowed them down and said, "See? No poison." Then he jokingly grabbed his throat and hollered, "Gaaaak!" Nicky laughed at his own joke.

Dave did not laugh.

"Dave, come on. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. I don't want to kill you." Nicky offered him another forkful of eggs.

After a short pause, Dave accepted the food and chewed it carefully. He wrinkled up his nose. "Can I have some salt on it?"

"Sure." Nicky salted the eggs, chopped them up a little finer with the fork, and mixed in the salt. Dave took another forkful. "Better?"

"Uh huh." Dave watched him feed himself some of his own eggs, which were mixed with grape jelly. His daughter's grape jelly. Dave wanted to get angry about this psycho eating his kid's food, but he couldn't afford that now. He needed to try to gain Nicky's trust. "Can I be uncuffed so I can feed myself?"

Nicky simply replied, "No," and offered him a piece of bacon.

With an angry sigh, Dave ripped off a mouthful of bacon with his teeth.

Nicky, holding up the glass of orange juice, said, "Let me know when you're thirsty."

"Did you drug it?" His tone came out bitter and sarcastic.

Nicky just grinned and shook his head. "No, I want you awake."

_Why, thank you for allowing me to stay awake! That's so thoughtful of you!_ Dave scowled a little before accepting a bite of sausage.

Nicky furrowed his brow while staring at Dave's face. He sighed. "Did I hear you screaming and crying after I left you last night?"

After a reluctant pause, Dave admitted, "Yeah."

"Is that because you figured out who I was?"

Again, Dave said, "Yeah."

Nicky produced a wet rag from beside his plate and began to clean Dave's face with it, especially under his nose. It wasn't like Dave had been able to do it himself, what with his hands being cuffed up. At first, Dave recoiled from the touch, shuddering visibly, but soon he was able to calm himself enough to deal with Nicky acting upon him without permission. It wasn't like he had a choice, and his moustache did feel pretty gross. Still, he said, "You don't have to do that."

"I'm used to it," Nicky said with a fond grin. "Remember, I was a nurse."

_How horrifying, to think of you taking care of helpless people._

"I thought about coming down here to comfort you, but I knew you wouldn't want me to do that once you realized who I am." Nicky sadly looked down at the floor. "You needed time away from me."

Dave's stomach growled. "You were right to give me some time. I'll be alright, okay?" He nodded to the food. "Let's get back to it before it gets cold. You went to all that trouble to make it."

Nicky smiled softly. It felt nice when Dave acknowledged something he did.

They continued eating like that, Nicky switching between feeding Dave and feeding himself, until they were almost done.

Oogly came up to both men then, jumping up on the chaise lounge and sniffing at a small piece of bacon on Dave's plate. "Mreow."

"Awww. Can he have some or are you against table scraps?" Nicky asked.

"She. She can have that piece."

Nicky offered the bacon to Oogly, who licked it before taking it in her mouth and laying down with it between her paws, licking and biting off smaller pieces of it to chew.

Nicky seemed delighted with the cat, giggling at the way she ate. "You should've seen her eat her canned food up in the kitchen. She puts her paw in and scoops up some food and eats it off her paw. That is so cute."

Dave nodded. "My daughters love to watch her do that." His face serious and eyes pleading, he begged, "Please don't hurt my cat."

"What?" Nicky scratched Oogly behind the ears. She purred, eyes closed. "I don't want to hurt the kitty. I had a cat. My sister took him in when I was arrested. He's dead by now. But I loved my kitty. He was a tuxedo cat, and you're a calico, yeah." Nicky rubbed Oogly's back.

Oogly leaned over and cheeked Nicky's knee with enthusiasm. _Purr, purr._

"Huh, I always thought cats were good judges of people." Dave made a show of looking Nicky up and down. "I guess not."

Nicky actually frowned, like his feelings were hurt. He retorted, "Well maybe she thinks I'm Taylor."

Uh oh. Dave could not afford to piss this guy off. "I'm sorry, Nicky. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But you have to admit, I have reason to be wary of you. You killed people."

In response, Nicky actually shrugged. "I had my reasons."

Sure. They had tried to escape. Nicky didn't enjoy the power he had over his victims at all, of course not. It wasn't bothersome at all that he helped himself to Dave's bed, food, other belongings, and his body as well. Nicky just had boundary issues.

Dave wanted to say all of these things, but he knew it was a bad idea. Instead, he said, "I've really got to go to the bathroom. You're not going to make me use a fucking bedpan, are you?"

"No." Nicky started to clean up the dishes, making a couple trips up and down the stairs. Dave heard the dishwasher start up. When Nicky came back, he reached into the waistband of Taylor's jeans, behind his back, and pulled the gun. "Now this is how this is going to go."

*****

Dave thought about all the instructions he'd been given while sitting on the toilet. Occasionally, he stretched his shoulders again. It felt so good to be able to move his arms. Looking down at his red, sore wrists, he recalled every word Nicky had said.

_"I'm going to uncuff you. At all times that you are free, you're going to stay far enough away that I feel you can't try to overpower me. If you come at me, I will shoot Taylor in the face. Don't think you can get to me before I do it; I'll be watching your every move. Don't even risk it. If you run out the door or try to signal someone for help, I will either leave and hide myself away from you or just shoot Taylor in the head. It's your choice._

_"If I ask you for your wrist, you will present it for recuffing, no arguments. I'm going to let you take a shower too. Would you like that?"_

Dave had nodded, grateful for the chance to get off the damn chaise. Now here he sat, his warden deigning to allow him to take a crap and a shower... a lovely, hot shower. It would probably feel good, so good on his sore shoulders. He could hardly wait.

Nicky sat on the floor by the bathroom door, spinning the gun on his finger by the trigger guard. When Dave flushed the toilet and stood up, he was back on alert, holding it to Taylor's chin.

What he didn't know is that Dave had decided to take a cue from Kurt and distract this asshole wherever he could, in hopes that it would cause Nicky to let his guard down. What better way to do it than by seducing him. Instead of pulling up his boxer shorts, Dave simply stepped out of them, standing before the other man naked.

Nicky practically drooled. Swallowing hard, he said, "Turn around. Show me it all."

Dave did, looking back over his shoulder and grinning.

"Now, turn back around and close the toilet so you can sit on it. I want you to play with yourself a bit."

Instead of arguing, Dave just did it, sitting down and parting his legs, his hand going to his crotch and promptly beginning to massage his balls. Dave closed his eyes to slits and opened his mouth just a little, enough to look alluring. He put an arm behind his head, other hand moving to his cock and stroking it slowly. "Uhhh..." he moaned.

Although he lowered the gun, Nicky kept his distance, watching eagerly. He did wonder why Dave was being so obedient. After about thirty seconds of watching him get harder and harder and listening to him pant and moan, Nicky commanded him to stop. "Stop, stop, stop. Shew, you are getting me going."

Coquettish, Dave batted his eyes and said, "You're not going to leave me hanging, are you?"

"No, I will not leave you hanging. We are going to finish this game. But first, you are going to take your shower. Damn, I wish I could get in there with you. You can't be trusted with that yet, though. Maybe next time, I can find a way to truss you up so I can wash you. God, that would be hot as hell." Nicky gestured to the shower with the gun. "Get in there before I throw you to the floor and fuck you right here."

Dave, smirking, stood up and opened the shower door.

Nicky watched him step in and added, "And don't you finish yourself off in there either. I want you hard and ready when you come out."

Dave smiled to himself. _Kurt, it's working._

He could see Nicky sitting in the doorway through the frosted shower door. Dave washed his hair, soaped up his body, everything he would normally do during a shower, except he also kept himself hard by occasionally stroking his cock. He knew this would lead to some form of sex, but it would only help him gain Nicky's trust. Dave didn't like the idea of spending another day with the ghost. This couldn't be helped. Maybe all of this would lead to an escape sooner than later.

When he stepped out of the shower, towelling off his hair, Nicky looked at his hard cock and breathed out a shaky breath. "Oh, Dave... I want to fuck you. I really need to chain you to your bed and fuck you real good."

In that moment, Dave realized he couldn't do it. The first time he and Taylor did that, Dave wanted it, needed it, to be just him and Taylor, alone. "I don't want to," he said, and added, "not yet. I'm not ready."

Nicky stood up. "Have you ever been fucked before?"

With a long sigh, Dave decided that he had to tell the truth. It would help gain Nicky's trust, and serve to seduce him, give him things to fantasize about and look forward to. The more Nicky focused on such distracting things, the more chances Dave had to overpower him. "Yes. It was Kurt."

Dave didn't think that Nicky's eyes could get any wider in reaction. He couldn't speak for a few seconds, mouth gaping like a dying fish. "You and Kurt, you... oh, that's the hottest thing ever. He... he fucked you... how many times?"

"Several." Looking down, pretending that this was hard to talk about, Dave sighed and said, "We did other things too." He was, honestly, a little surprised at his own candidness, how easy this was to admit, but once he got started, Dave found it a cathartic thing to confess. So few people knew. He had once told Jordyn, but Taylor... Taylor did not know.

Would he know now? Was he hearing this?

Swallowing down a lump in his throat, Nicky asked, "Did you ever fuck Kurt?"

"No," Dave replied, shaking his head. "I was submissive to him. It turned him on."

A sexually excited shudder visibly passed up Nicky's back, so hard that he moaned involuntarily. "I can't believe this is true. The whole time I was listening to Nirvana, you guys were... holy shit, Dave, please let me fuck you."

Again, he shook his head. "Please try to understand, it's too emotional for me right now. You brought up all these feelings I had buried and... I need time. Please give me time."

Holding out the handcuffs, Nicky said, "You have to let me do other things."

"Of course," Dave assured, blinking coyly, like there had never been a question.

Smiling suddenly, excited that Dave wasn't fighting him on some things, Nicky tossed him the handcuffs. "Put one wrist into the cuffs."

Dave did as he was told.

"Get those towels and bring them with you."

Dave's hunch was right, Nicky had been sleeping in the bed he shared with Jordyn, a king size with an ornate brass headboard. Nicky took him to that bed now. "Dry yourself off as much as you can."

Dave did.

"Now spread that towel on the bed, and put the other one over the pillows. You're hair is still wet. Once you've done all that, lay down on the towels and put your arms up."

Once Dave was lying down, he watched Nicky put the handcuff key on the bedside table and then lean over him to grab the cuff that had not yet been locked down on his free wrist. He made a split second decision. Dave didn't want to hurt Taylor, but he had no choice. He had to get them both out of this.

Dave's hand shot up and grabbed hold of Taylor's hair, yanking him down and slamming his head into the headboard. His skull made a loud _CLANG_ sound, and he grunted in pain and surprise. Dave scrambled over him, going for the handcuff key. His plan was to get the cuff off so he could use the handcuffs to subdue Nicky, chaining him to the bed instead, and then he could go for help.

But Nicky wasn't even half as dazed as Dave thought he was. Nicky had dealt with how to hold a grown man captive many times, and this wasn't the first time one had tried to escape. As Dave rolled over him, he quickly turned over and grabbed Dave's hair as he had done to him, pulling him back as Dave still tried to get a hold of the handcuff key. His concern for saving Taylor would be his undoing. Nicky reached around and took hold of Dave's balls, squeezing them as hard as he could. At first, Dave still tried to fight, but after a few seconds of the pain, he crumpled, screaming angrily. Nicky didn't wait for Dave to recover or start using his hands at all; he used Dave's hair to pivot him around, swinging him down on his stomach, and pinned him down with a knee in his back.

"Fucking bastard... you motherfucker..." Dave was growling. He still panted and groaned in pain, much more dazed than Nicky had been after the strike to the head.

"Always go for the balls," Nicky taunted. He grabbed the other end of the handcuffs, wound the chain around the brass bars in the headboard, and slapped the other cuff over Dave's free wrist. Then he got up, panting, and put a hand to his head. "Fuck, that hurt!"

When Dave realized what had happened, he whimpered. He was a prisoner again, and all the trust he had been trying to build was gone. "No, no, I'm sorry, it was a spur of the moment decision, it was wrong. Please, please don't hurt Taylor."

"Taylor?" Nicky picked up the gun. He got on top of Dave's back and leaned down into his face, putting the barrel against his nose. "You should be worried about yourself."

Dave breathed hard, saying nothing at first, wondering if he had just screwed himself into a bullet in the head. "You said you loved me, you wouldn't be able to kill me."

"Hm. I guess you've got me there." Nicky put the gun on the bedside table, where Dave could see it. "But I do have to punish you for what you just did, so you will majorly think twice before you do it again." He opened the top drawer in the bedside table, like he knew exactly what was in there. Dave realized he probably did, as he'd gone through these drawers before to find the gun. Nicky pulled out a tube colored blue, with the word 'His' printed on it. "You and the missus have His and Hers lube, huh? You have a lot of fun with it? You get real kinky with it?" He licked his finger, then reached between Dave's round cheeks, massaging his puckered entrance with the wet fingertip.

Dave whimpered again. "Don't, please, don't."

Nicky hissed into Dave's ear. "Your punishment is I'm going to be Kurt."


	7. Bridge Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicky breathed out slowly, rocking against him. Dave hissed. "Ohhh, it's been so long, _so long,_ " Nicky whispered.

Nicky taunted and ranted at Dave a while longer, pointing out how badly he could have hurt Taylor by slamming his head into the brass headboard, but it all sounded like a voice from down inside a tunnel. All Dave could focus on at the moment was his pulse beating in his ears and the realization that Nicky was about to rape him using Taylor's body.

"If you ever do something like that again, I may not punish you next time. I may just disfigure Taylor's face, or string up your cat and - "

Catching some of this, Dave struggled underneath him, begging, "No, don't hurt anyone else! Leave Oogly alone, please! I'm the one who did it! Don't hurt Taylor for something I did."

Nicky snickered. "Oogly? That's adorable." He dropped kisses on the back of Dave's neck. "Your fear is even sexier than your anger."

Dave knew it. The guy didn't just want his love. He also got off on flaunting his power over a captive victim. His body began to shake.

Now kissing his shoulder, Nicky purred, "Are you still hard? Be honest."

"Sort of," Dave replied. He could feel his dick rubbing against the sheets and yes, it was still a bit erect. No, he didn't want to react that way to what Nicky was about to do to him. If Dave could will himself not to get any more aroused, he had to try.

But Nicky, of course, had other ideas. "What can we do to get you as hard and excited as you were when you masturbated for me? Hm? Does the idea of me fucking you actually get you all hot and bothered?" Dropping kisses along Dave's spine, he parted his quivering cheeks with his fingers. "Mmm, you got yourself all clean for me," Nicky breathed, and ran his tongue around the rim of Dave's puckered hole.

At first, Dave jerked in surprise, but within seconds, he buried his face in the pillow so Nicky couldn't hear him moan. He and Kurt always referred to this as rimming, although it had other names, and they had both loved doing it to each other. Years ago, after his divorce from his first wife, Dave had gotten drunk and picked up a cute blonde guy in a record store, who had agreed to rim him until he came. The guy had begged to be fucked, and Dave had done it, but it just didn't feel enough like the old days, and although he came inside the guy, he had left feeling unsatisfied. As Nicky moved Taylor's tongue ever so slowly over that sensitive area, Dave couldn't help but rub his cock against the bedsheets.

Nicky noticed the subtle, slow movement of Dave's hips. "Oh, you like it, huh?" He reached up and took a handful of Dave's long hair in his fist, lifting his head. Dave hissed. "I want to hear you. Keep your face out of the pillow."

"Please don't make me do this."

"So you don't want your punishment? You'd rather I get the razor and go find Oogly?"

Sighing, Dave laid his head on his upturned arm. "Fine. I won't bury my face in the pillow."

"Good boy." Nicky began to lick him again.

Dave tried very hard not to rub himself off on the sheets, but it just felt too good. Trying to use more of Kurt's advice, he imagined it was Kurt rimming him, it was Taylor, they were taking turns. His hips moved a little more aggressively by the minute. Dave didn't realize how much he was moaning until Nicky stopped and remarked, "Damn. You make the most intoxicating sounds."

Dave heard him open the bottle of lubricant. Shortly after, a lubed finger slid up inside him and touched that sweet spot he liked so much. Dave almost screamed in pleasure. He couldn't bring himself to ask Jordyn to do this very often, but he did love it. Dave didn't have to see Nicky to know he was grinning.

This went on for several minutes, Nicky working in more and more lube. Dave couldn't stop rubbing against the sheets; he was close. All at once, he realized the finger was gone, and Nicky was panting and taking off Taylor's clothes. Oh, God. Could he pretend it was Kurt or Taylor on his back? Nicky had already taken so much from his possible first experiences with Taylor - he didn't want this taken from him too.

"No, don't, please," Dave pleaded.

"I can't stop now. You are too fucking hot." Dave felt hands easing him open, and then the head of Taylor's cock was against the entrance to him. Nicky breathed out slowly, rocking against him. His cock began to breach him very slowly, just barely opening him up. Dave hissed. He couldn't feel the pain yet, but he knew it was coming any second. "Ohhh, it's been so long, _so long,_ " Nicky whispered.

Dave cried out in his head, hoping someone would hear him. _Kurt, I really screwed up. Please help me! If there's anything you can do, please get me out of this._

An answer came, but it sounded far away. _Cry,_ Kurt's voice commanded. _It will make him stop._

_What?_

_CRY._ Images were forced into Dave's head of people he loved in pain, in horrible situations, things he never wanted to see. Tears instantly sprang up in his eyes. He felt Nicky rocking against him again, felt him sliding forward, and Dave burst into tears.

"Stop, please stop, no more!" he cried.

Gasping, Nicky pulled back, and turned Dave over. This caused his arms to cross over one another, but it wasn't painful. The look of horror on Nicky's face... Kurt's advice had paid off. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, don't cry." He kissed Dave's face all over.

Dave saw a bruise coming up on Taylor's forehead, near his temple. Knowing that he had really hurt Taylor in his bungled attempt to escape only made him cry harder.

Nicky's blue eyes widened and then filled with sorrow. "Oh, please don't cry. I'm sorry, baby." He hugged Dave, continuing to kiss away his tears, then laying his head on his chest. "I went too far, please forgive me."

How ironic that a minute ago, Nicky had been determined to punish him, and now, he was _apologizing_ to Dave for it. Crying was a weakness for the psycho; this was useful information. _Thanks, Kurt._

What Nicky did next was quite the surprise. Dave was trying to stop crying, but once he got started, it took time to turn off the faucet. Nicky said, "Don't cry, baby, I only want you to feel pleasure," and, in an effort to prove what he'd just said, quickly took Dave's cock in his mouth and began to suck it.

The action was so unexpected, it made him quiver all over, hard, and huff out a loud, shaky breath. Already close, Dave moaned and threw his head back, closing his eyes. When he looked down a minute later, he saw blue eyes looking up at him, head bobbing up and down, hoping for his approval. Although the eyes were the wrong shade, it was easy to pretend they were Kurt's eyes, and remember.

But that wasn't really right. The eyes were in Taylor's face, and Kurt and Taylor were not interchangeable. Taylor had been compared to Kurt, had been called his replacement in Dave's life, had even been insinuated to only be in the band because he reminded Dave of Kurt, but none of those things were true. Taylor was his own person with his own talents, and he didn't deserve to be thought of as a Kurt clone. They didn't even look alike, save for the blonde hair. Dave put thoughts of Kurt out of his head as he looked down at Taylor's face, Taylor's lips wrapped around his dick, obscenely taking him all the way in. His eyes began to switch from blue to brown and back again.

Maybe he hadn't lost Nicky's trust after all. Maybe the ghost could still be seduced and manipulated. As Dave felt himself about to cum, he laid his cheek against his raised arm, eyes closed again, and moaned, "Oh Nicky," before cumming in his mouth.

Nicky swallowed it all down. When Dave opened his eyes, he saw those lovesick blue eyes looking back at him before Nicky nearly pounced on him, giving him several passionate kisses. He looked as if he might start crying too, eyes dewy, as he wiped the tears from Dave's face with his thumbs. "I love you, Dave Grohl," he said with a sniffle. "I think you may be starting to love me too."

Oh, this guy was totally loony toons. But let him think it, it could keep Dave alive.

Nicky kissed him a few more times before saying, "I am more turned on than ever. Can I have a blowjob too?"

Just relieved he didn't go back to demanding a fuck, Dave nodded. Nicky helped him sit up a bit and then got on his knees before him, fucking Dave's mouth.

This being the first time Dave ever gave Taylor a blowjob, he hoped Taylor was awake enough to enjoy it. Another experience with Taylor that Nicky was stealing from him. Closing his eyes, Dave fantasized it was only Taylor in there, as Kurt had suggested. He did all that he could to revive the techniques he used with Kurt all those years ago, the ones that made him growl and grab Dave's head, pulling his hair a little as Dave sucked his cock.

At one point, he opened his eyes and looked up at Taylor's face to see what color his eyes were. The face was a mask of ecstacy, eyes closed and lips slightly open. "Dave, oh yes," he moaned.

Pulling his head back, Dave concentrated on the head of the cock, licking the underside. The sounds coming out of Taylor's mouth became more high-pitched and desperate. As it was with many men, the spot Dave was licking was extra sensitive. Dave let Taylor's cock drop from his mouth. Nicky looked down at him, confused.

It wasn't just Nicky gazing down at him. The eyes were changing from blue to brown and back. Dave sighed with relief. He wanted Taylor to feel every bit of this. "Woops," he said, and tried to chase the dangling cock with his mouth.

So turned on, Nicky guided the hard member back into Dave's mouth. He put a hand against the wall to brace and began to rock faster in and out of Dave's mouth, his moans reaching a new level of needy. Full of rasp and smoke, those sounds were pure Taylor. When he came, he cradled Dave's head in his hands, and howled. Dave swallowed, enjoying the giving as much as the receiving when Taylor was involved.

When Nicky used his usual safeguards in taking Dave back to the art room, Dave did not fight him. He would choose his moments to attempt to escape better. He did, however, ask why they couldn't stay in the bedroom.

"It's easier keeping track of things with you down here," Nicky replied. He didn't explain any more than that, but Dave thought he knew what he meant. Only one path of escape.

Chained down to the chaise lounge, wearing clean boxer shorts and nothing else, Dave started in on the seduction again. "Can I see what you looked like? It's been a long time since I last saw you on TV."

"How am I supposed to show you that?"

"We can look on my phone." Maybe he could trick Nicky into calling for help. "Where did you put it?"

"Is that really a phone? They've come a long way." Nicky ran up the stairs and brought back both Dave and Taylor's phones. "I don't think this one is working."

"It just needs to be charged. They run on batteries." Luckily, Dave's phone still had some power. "After we're done, you should put them both on their chargers." He explained how to use the phone to get on the internet and search for Austin Nicholas Kelly.

Nicky could not have been more fascinated with the phone and the internet as a whole. He tapped the screen with his finger and cried, "Whoa!" when the picture filled the screen. Showing Dave the picture, he said, "That's me."

Dave considered it. Nicky looked a bit like a young, perpetually pissy-faced Leonardo DiCaprio, with darker hair. "You weren't a bad looking guy. Why did you think you had to hold people captive to have a relationship with them?"

Nicky shrugged and shook his head at the same time. "I dunno. I don't want to talk about it." He looked at the screen. "Do you think I'm attractive?"

"Yeah. You were very good looking."

Nicky smiled, looking at the phone again. "Thanks." He started tapping on the screen randomly until he'd managed to open a gallery of pictures stored on the phone. "What are these?"

"Phones take pictures now."

"Who's that?"

Dave allowed him to go through the gallery, telling him who various people were, hoping it would make it harder to hurt him or Taylor if he saw more of Dave's life outside of this room. Nicky's eyebrows dipped in confusion at the latest picture. He showed it to Dave. "Is that me?"

Nicky was showing him a photo of Taylor backstage before one of their 2015 shows. Taylor had found a couple pairs of tight leggings that he thought were so comfortable that he wanted to wear them on stage. The only problem was he insisted on wearing them without any underwear, which caused the pants to gleefully show off his balls. The corners of Dave's mouth twitched as he tried to keep from laughing. "Yup."

Nicky looked at Taylor's lower half in the tiger-striped leggings. "You let me go out in public in ball-hugging tights?"

"They're leggings, and he wore them on stage! And I ain't Taylor's mom. He's a grown man. Dude can wear what he wants."

Nicky showed him the picture again. "On stage?"

Dave just laughed.

"Ball-hugging hot pants and he wears them in front of thousands of people," Nicky said with a grin. "Taylor seems like a real character. Bad taste in clothes sometimes, but a fun guy."

Dave just laughed again, harder. He was stopped cold when the phone began to ring.

Nicky didn't know what was happening because Dave's ringtone was "Tom Sawyer" by Rush. He wasn't used to this meaning that a phone was ringing. Showing Dave the screen, he asked, "What does it mean when it plays music?"

The screen said JORDYN CALLING.

"It's my wife." He quickly explained how to answer the phone and put it on speaker. "Be cool. You're Taylor."

"If you try to signal her that anything's wrong - "

"I won't, but she will think something is wrong if I don't answer. Answer it!"

Nicky did as Dave had instructed. "Hey babe," Dave called into the phone.

"Hi honey. I've already called you twice. Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry. Taylor and I slept in. You know us, up late as always." He glared at Nicky. "Say hi, Tee."

Nicky jumped like he'd been startled, then recovered. "He~ey," he sing-songed.

"Hi Taylor. So how did your séance go?"

"Oh, not so well. Nothing happened," Dave lied. "Guess the ghost didn't want to talk. We're going to try again tonight."

"Sounds like you're having fun," Jordyn said with a giggle.

"Fun? Oh sure, it's a barrel of laughs here. We shoulda just came to Hawaii with you guys." Dave sighed. Hearing her voice was making him sad. What if he never saw her again? "Are the girls having fun?"

They talked about all the activities the kids were doing in the beautiful Hawaiian sun on the gorgeous Hawaiian beaches. Dave wished he and Taylor had just gone to Hawaii on Saturday with their families. If they had, he wouldn't be handcuffed to a piece of furniture now, wondering if he was going to make it out of this without being raped or killed. After a few minutes of listening to this, Nicky was bored, but he still held the phone up for Dave, trying to signal to him that he should wrap it up.

"I miss you sooo much, babe. I wish I was there, really I do."

"But you wanted to work on that song with Taylor and Chris too, right? You staying there 'til Wednesday wasn't just about getting in touch with the ghost," Jordyn reminded him. "Stay and finish the song. You'll be totally distracted by work if you come to Hawaii now."

Dave tried to keep the sadness out of his voice as he admitted she was right. He had to; she'd be suspicious otherwise. "I know. I just miss you is all."

"Awww. It's nice to be loved."

"And I do love you."

"Listen to you, being all romantic," Jordyn cooed. "I love you too, Dave."

Nicky rolled his eyes.

"Give my love to the girls."

"I will. I'll try to tear them away from their activities long enough to... What? Oh sure."

"Jordyn?" Dave said.

A different voice came on the line. "Oliver Taylor Hawkins, why aren't you answering your phone?"

Dave's eyes went wide. "Your wife," he mouthed.

Looking alarmed, Nicky tried to remember her name. Dave had told him her name. Was it...? "Oh, hey hon. Sorry. I forgot to recharge the battery and it went dead."

Dave mouthed, "Alison." He would have also given Nicky a thumbs up for coming up with a great explanation on the fly, but no one could have seen his thumbs when they were practically under the chaise.

Nicky looked confused; he couldn't tell what Dave was trying to say.

"You goof. Are you charging it now?" Alison asked.

"Most definitely."

"Good. I sent you a video of Shane waterskiing for the first time and he's so excited for you to see it."

Trying to save Nicky a bit, Dave cut in with, "Waterskiing, wow, that's pretty great, Alison. Tell him that's awesome."

"Yeah, Ali, tell him that's really cool."

Dave winced.

Not sure why Dave was reacting that way, Nicky continued, "I promise I'll watch the video as soon as... my phone is charged?" He wasn't even sure if that's how it worked.

Alison paused, then said, "Okay. He'll be waiting for a call from his daddy, so don't you guys get busy and forget."

"I'll make sure he doesn't forget," Dave promised, knowing that promise would probably be broken. If Nicky was going to screw up this fast, how could he be trusted to talk to Taylor's son?

"Thank you, Dave." Alison paused like she was waiting for something. Then she added, "Well, you seem busy. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Seeming relieved, Nicky said, "Okay, bye." When Dave gaped at him, he hurriedly added, "Love you, Ali. Love to the kids."

"Love you too." She hung up.

Dave thumped his head against the chaise lounge in frustration. "Why did you keep calling her Ali?"

Taken aback, Nicky swallowed down a lump of apprehension. "Taylor doesn't call her Ali?"

"Nobody calls her Ali. She's always been just Alison." With a sigh, he continued, "You didn't ask about the other kids, either. Taylor and Alison have three kids."

"Oh... I guess I could have studied all this a little harder. I just never thought it would come up." Suddenly, he snickered. "His first name really is Oliver?"

If Dave could have hit him with something, he would. "Would you get serious?"

He went on snickering. "Hello Ollie."

Dave lightly kicked him in the side. "If you make them too suspicious, they're going to send someone over here to check on us. You don't want that, do you?" Dave wasn't sure if he wanted it or not. It could be a chance to be rescued... but it also was a chance for someone else to be hurt.

Nicky shook his head. "Should we call them back?"

"No, you might make it worse. Let's just leave well enough alone."

Sheepish, Nicky asked, "Do you want me to put your phone on the battery thingie too?"

"Yeah, for a couple hours."

It had been a harrowing, exhausting morning, and it wasn't even lunchtime yet. Dave thought about what the imp had said about having a beer with breakfast. He didn't want to do what the little fucker said, but he really needed a beer. It wasn't breakfast anymore either. "Nicky, can I have a beer?"

"Okay, sure."

"And will you put on the TV for a little while?"

An hour later, Nicky was upstairs somewhere cleaning while Dave watched some TV, trying not to worry about what might happen next. Just what were Nicky's plans here? Keep fucking around 'til he was ready to... what?

Nicky had said he was the type to clean obsessively when he was nervous, and the call with Alison had made him nervous. Currently he was up there in a room where Dave couldn't hear him, cleaning stuff, whatever. If it kept him happy and non-homicidal, Dave was all for it.

He heard the back door into the kitchen open. "Hey Dave? Taylor?"

All at once, Dave realized what was about to happen. He remembered something Jordyn had said.

_But you wanted to work on that song with Taylor and Chris too, right?_

CHRIS.

He was still in town. They were going to work on a song, but Chris wasn't supposed to come over until Monday. He was here now, about to walk into a time bomb named Nicky.

The first thing Dave was concerned about was Chris's safety. Nicky had no use for him. It was doubtful Nicky would do anything but kill Chris as soon as he could.

Dave hoped he could take control of this situation before anyone got hurt. "Chris! Run! Get out of here! Taylor's not himself, he'll kill you!"

"...Dave?" He could hear Chris walking across the kitchen toward the stairs.

"No, don't come down here! Get out of here, please! Taylor will kill you! He's not Taylor!"

"What the hell are you - " Chris grunted hard, like the wind had been knocked out of him. This sound was accompanied by Taylor making a similar noise.

But as Dave had said, he wasn't Taylor.

They slammed into the wall. Dave gasped; his worst nightmare of this scenario was coming true. "No, God, Nicky, let him go! Don't hurt him!"

"Taylor, what the fuck are you doing?! What's wrong with you?" This was followed by more sounds Dave would characterize as fighting noises. Grunting, punching, cries of pain. "Taylor, stop!" Something made of glass shattered, and Chris yelped.

"Stop! Leave him alone!" Dave struggled with the handcuffs, knowing it was pointless but unable to do anything else.

A kitchen chair fell over, and the next thing Dave knew, Nicky had let out a growl of anger and effort and Chris came tumbling down the stairs. Chris lay there, dazed, breathing hard, bleeding from a gash in his forehead, as Nicky came running down the stairs after him.

Dave's heart hammered in his chest. "Noooo, no, please let him go! Let him go!"

Efficient and prepared, Nicky grabbed Chris by the wrists and dragged him over to the couch. Chris had just begun to shake off his trip down the stairs; he looked up at who he thought was Taylor and said, "Taylor... what are you... doing?"

Nicky kept going, using all of his strength to drag-lift Chris up onto the couch. He surprised even Dave by producing a set of handcuffs from his back, tucked into the waistband of his jeans (his shirt had hidden them), and cuffing Chris's wrists around the bar that ran the length of the room, the bar that was bolted to the wall. Then he removed Taylor's shirt and sat on Chris's midsection, putting the rolled up shirt to Chris's bleeding forehead.

He was applying direct pressure to Chris's gash? This hardly seemed like someone who was ready to kill. Still, Dave didn't want the inevitable to happen to Chris. Nicky didn't even know who he was. "Nicky, please, he's not involved. Let him go."

"What the hell is going on?" Chris asked, looking up at the T-shirt pressed to his head.

Panting, Nicky chilled Dave to the bone by grinning mischievously. "Do you think I'm stupid? If I let him go, he'll come back with the police." Nicky suddenly started yelling. "DO YOU THINK I GOT AWAY WITH THIS FOR OVER TEN YEARS WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT I'M DOING?!" And he laughed, evil, feral.

 

_**Author's Notes:** Just had to say, I know it's very unlikely there would be this many bisexual guys in one grouping, but I really like to write my RPS as close to the truth as possible, with real life spouses and such. I also really like threesomes, moresomes, and love triangles, writing and reading them. If you're reading this, I'm assuming you're suspending your disbelief with me and believing there are multiple bisexual Foos as well as a bi Kurt._

_As far as this story is concerned, Kurt Cobain committed suicide._

_I added Chris to the story for two reasons. One, so Dave would have someone to talk to outside the mindscape who isn't a psycho nutjob. And two, because of this one Chevy Metal video I watched on YouTube. They were playing "The Stroke" by Billy Squire, and there's a part that is originally played on the keyboard (I think) that Chris plays on the guitar. There was something so sexy about it that I really wanted to include him in the fanfic. :D_

_I promise, nothing bad will happen to any of the cats in this story, no matter what Nicky threatens._


	8. Long Road to Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dave, I think he kinda... kinda wants to take... uh... I think he wants to fuck us."

Everything happened so fast.

They all took a minute to process what had just taken place. It was Chris who spoke first. "Okay... what the fuck is going on? When Alison said you were acting strange, she wasn't kidding."

Dave rolled his eyes. "So that's why you're here? Alison asked you to check on us?"

"Technically, it was Cara, but Alison asked her to call me."

Dave imagined all their wives chatting out by the hotel pool, trying to figure out what was going on here from all those miles away. This was the only way they had of finding out. Getting on a plane and coming home would be complicated with the huge brood of children and grandparents they had out there in Hawaii. Besides, they had no idea just how serious things were here, how much danger everyone was in. "I knew it." He looked at Nicky. "Your screwup on the phone brought him here."

Nicky shrugged.

"That's all you've got to say?"

Now he grinned. "It's okay. I can handle this."

"Oh really? Now you've got two grown men to control."

Chris cut in again. "Guys? What... the hell... is going... ON?!"

Dave felt sorry for him. Chris really had no idea what he'd walked into. "You remember me telling you I had a ghost in my house? How it came in with the statue?" He nodded to the painted mannequin against the wall near Chris's head.

"Uh huh?"

"Meet the ghost," Dave finished, and gestured with his eyes to Taylor.

Nicky looked at Chris and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Huh?"

Sighing, Dave tried to explain better. "Chris, we contacted the ghost with a Ouija board and it possessed Taylor. Taylor's been sedated somehow; the ghost is in control of his body."

Chris laughed. "That's not possible."

"I didn't think so either, but would Taylor attack you and throw you down the stairs? Look at his eyes."

Peeking from under the shirt still held to his forehead, Chris looked; Nicky opened his eyes wide for him. "Oh hell. Taylor's eyes aren't blue, are they?"

Dave shook his head. 

Trying to take it all in, Chris eventually said, "Well fuck. No wonder he seemed weird on the phone."

"Nicky, look at me," Dave commanded. Nicky did, a mischievous grin on his face. "You can't hurt him." When Nicky said nothing in reply, Dave began to plead for Chris's life. "Please don't hurt my friend."

"I don't want to hurt him yet," Nicky replied, looking at the wound on Chris's head. "If you screw up again, and I have to blow Taylor's head off.." He patted Chris's chest with his free hand. "...I have a spare." And he snickered like this was incredibly funny to him.

Chris wasn't sure he understood all that, but he still looked horrified, with wide, trapped eyes, in reaction to the part about blowing Taylor's head off.

Laying his head back on the chaise, Dave sighed again. "You are an evil little fuckhead, you know that?"

Nicky smiled so big, he showed most of Taylor's teeth. "I know." He checked Chris's head one last time. "I don't think this will need stitches. You got any butterfly bandages?"

Closing his eyes, Dave shrugged.

"I'll check. Don't you two go anywhere." Nicky chuckled his way up the stairs.

Frustrated and worried, Dave raised his head and said, "Oh God, Shiflett, I wish you hadn't come over here. I wish you weren't involved in this at all."

"Dave... who is this ghost?"

He had to laugh. "Like this doesn't sound crazy enough already. Does the name Austin Nicholas Kelly mean anything to you?"

Chris thought about it. "Wasn't he a mass murderer or something? Some guy killed him in prison and they think he was paid to do it by the father of one of Kelly's victims, but they couldn't prove it?"

"You're on the right track, but he was a serial killer."

"Oh, right." An extreme look of panic and horror came to Chris's face; he was all eyes. "That's who is possessing Taylor? A serial killer?!"

Dave nodded. "I'm so sorry, Chris. I'm sorry you walked into this. I never should have let him talk to Alison. I should have known he would slip up."

Chris didn't seem to be so concerned with how he got there. Looking out for the welfare of Dave and Taylor was just part of his life, his friendship with them. Instead, he asked a question that to him seemed obvious. "How did the ghost of a serial killer get in that statue?"

For his own part, Dave hadn't even considered that. "That's a good question."

As if on cue, Nicky came back downstairs with a box of butterfly bandages. "Found some. I guess when you have kids, you gotta have a medicine cabinet stocked with all kinds of Band-Aids."

When Nicky came at him with the first bandage, Chris shrunk into the couch, trying to get away from the serial killer. "Oh come on," Nicky said. "If I was trying to hurt you, would I be putting these bandages on your head? Relax."

Chris tried to, but he mumbled, "You just brained me with a beer bottle and threw me down the stairs."

A ripple of anger passed over Nicky's face. "Just shut up and lie still."

Dave watched him use the bandages to close Chris's wound with the care of someone who had medical training. It was ironic, that a person who had spent all that time in medical school would wind up taking lives. "Nicky, how did your soul get in the statue?"

Nicky stopped moving for a few seconds, as if the question had literally stopped the working of his brain. Then he shrugged and opened another bandage. "I dunno. I spent a lot of years in Hell, and then one day, I was just looking out of the statue's eyes."

Dave had spent enough time around children and drug addicts to know what the body language of lying looked like. "I don't think you're telling me the truth. I think you know more."

"I don't care what you think," Nicky said quite clearly, and looked Dave in the eye. Dave couldn't help but shudder. He kept trying to exert dominance in this... relationship?... and Nicky kept pushing him back down. "If I did know more, do you think I'd tell you?" His tone became condescending and sarcastic. "Here's all the information you need to know about how I got here. Please put me back in. Yeah, right."

So there was a way to put him back in the statue? Dave became very quiet, attempting to figure this whole thing out.

"Okay, that looks good." Nicky considered his handiwork on Chris's head with pride. "Should heal with minimal scarring. Now, apparently, you're Chris, as that what Dave called you... you can just call me Nicky. You're in the Foo Fighters too..." He snapped a few times as if trying to remember something. "You play... guitar? No, Pat plays guitar."

"I also play guitar."

Nicky looked confused. "But doesn't Dave also play...? This band has three guitarists?"

Both Chris and Dave nodded.

"Isn't that a bit excessive?"

Chris and Dave both shrugged. "I like the sound it creates," Dave added.

Nicky smiled knowingly to himself. The band didn't need all those guitarists, he thought. Dave just liked these people too much to fire anybody. These guys were his closest friends. They were special to him, and because of that, they all made good bargaining chips for Nicky to keep Dave compliant. "Well... I better go clean up the mess in the kitchen."

Once Nicky had made his way upstairs, Dave remarked, "You ever want to get rid of that guy, just make a mess somewhere."

"Dave, what does he know about the band? Didn't he die a really long time ago?"

"Earlier today, he found the pictures on my phone, and I told him who everyone was."

"But, is he conscious of who you are?" Chris asked.

"Well, yeah. When he was alive, he was a really big fan of Nirvana," Dave replied.

"The fuck?" Chris exclaimed. "First, he's not a regular person, he's a serial killer. Then he's a fan of Nirvana, and he winds up in your house. Isn't that a strange coincidence?"

Shrugging, Dave said, "It is, but fuck all if I can make sense of it. Taylor made the same point, by the way. During the séance. Nicky recognized me and Tee said it was a weird coincidence. But how can it be anything but a coincidence?"

Chris sighed. "So what do we do now? Cara is expecting me to call her back."

"Shiflett... I've been trying to get away for hours now, but Nicky keeps threatening to shoot Taylor in the head if I act up. That's what he meant, when he said you'd be his spare. If I screw up and he shoots Taylor, he'll possess you next."

Chris recoiled deeper into the couch. "But I don't want to be possessed!"

"I'm going to do every last thing I can to keep that from happening. If Taylor dies because of me..." He stopped as a wave of emotion choked him for a moment. "But you have to do what he says too. You have to let him help you call Cara and tell her everything's okay, that Taylor's sick and that's why he was acting weird, and he's taking a nap now. If they think something is really wrong and send another person over here, someone else is going to be hurt. Maybe killed. It could be Taylor. It could be one of us. Even if the police are sent, Nicky is not going down easily. I mean, the guy has nothing to lose. He's already dead."

"But, if we're not going to try to get help, how are we going to get out of this?" Chris asked.

Dave lowered his voice to a whisper. "Either one of us has got to overpower him when we have a chance, without Taylor getting hurt, or we have to figure out how to wake up Taylor."

Dave jumped, his face alarmed, as he heard Nicky coming down the stairs. "Pss pss pss, so much whispering," he said, a beer in his hand. He had put on a new shirt. "Your wife sent you over here, right? So we need to call her?"

Dave quickly laid out his plan to get the wives to calm down.

"Sounds good. Let's do it." He turned to Chris. "Where's your phone?"

Chris squirmed a bit as Nicky dug around under him, looking for the back pocket where he'd said his phone would be. He especially squirmed because Nicky insisted on looking for the phone by putting both arms around his waist and rooting around with shameless hands. "Ah, here it is." Nicky pulled out the phone, but still hovered near Chris's body. This was fun, making the guy uncomfortable. He looked into Chris's face. "You have very pretty eyes."

Chris's eyes darted about as if this whole exchange felt awkward to him. "Uh, thanks," he mumbled.

There was something in this reaction that spoke volumes. Nicky could feel it. Being groped for his phone hadn't freaked him out nearly as much as one would think; in fact, the guy had started to tremble a little, as if maybe he liked it. The expression on Chris's face certainly didn't look scared, not right now, anyway. Nicky couldn't wait to get to the bottom of this one. Perhaps there was something there he could use to make Dave jealous. Maybe that's what he needed to get over his reservations.

Nicky looked over at Dave. Dave had been watching them, but now he looked away, trying to seem casual. Ahhhh... no matter who was in control of this body, they still saw Taylor, felt Taylor, thought of Taylor... and wanted Taylor? It was only when they were reminded who was in charge that they remembered. That was okay. Dave would learn soon enough how this arrangement was going to work.

In the meantime, Nicky could have him some fun.

They made the call to Cara, which went smoothly enough that all the wives said to tell Taylor to feel better and get some rest. When it was done, Nicky confiscated the phone with a grin. "Well... looks like we've got ourselves a party here. Should I be expecting anymore people today? You got a gardener or a nanny coming over?"

"Not that I know of," Dave replied. "Everybody else is in Hawaii. I wouldn't go by Taylor's house, though. He's got somebody coming in every day to feed his dogs."

"Alright, then. I wanna have a good time tonight," Nicky declared, and clapped his hands loudly. "We need movies. There have been two movies made about me. I want to see them again." He turned to Dave. "You have a Blockbuster Video card, don't you?"

Dave explained to him about the demise of Blockbuster Video, the existence of Red Box, and other ways to see movies besides renting them. Nicky seemed to want to do what he was used to, and prepared to go out to a Red Box to get the movies. Chris had already begun to squirm again, seeming uncomfortable.

"Just how long are you going to keep us chained up like this?" he finally asked.

Dave swallowed hard. It was better not to press Nicky, to remind him that the clock was ticking. What would he do when time ran out?

With a dangerous grin, Nicky sat on the very edge of the couch and wiggled a finger in Chris's face to annoy him. "As long as I feel like. That okay with you?"

Chris tried to laugh it off. "Uh, sure. Sure." There was nothing else he could do.

"Good. Anybody gotta pee before I go?"

They both did, and was that ever an awkward bit of business for Dave and Chris and a fun bit for Nicky. If they didn't like that, they were going to hate the next part. "While I'm gone, I'm going to give you both half a Morphecil. It'll put you to sleep for a couple hours. I can't have you talking too much while I'm gone. Planning things."

Shaking his head, Dave protested, "Nicky, you can't keep drugging people. You're not a doctor. You're gonna overdose us."

"No, I'm a nurse, the actual person who administers the medicine in the hospital. I know what I'm doing." Nicky took the bottle out of his pocket and went to open the beer he had brought.

Chris tried not to panic. "What's Morphecil?"

"It's the tranquilizer the doctor gave me when I couldn't sleep," Dave explained.

"You're going to have to be more specific. You never sleep."

"Haha, Shiflett. It was about a year ago."

"Oh, then those pills are expired." Chris eyed the bottle in Nicky's hand. "I don't want to take someone else's expired medicine."

"Trust me, they still work," Nicky assured.

Dave cringed.

"But, they'll knock me out." Chris pulled at the handcuffs, wriggling on the couch. "I don't want to be knocked out."

Here's where they stopped seeing him as Taylor and easily remembered he was Nicky. "I don't care what you want." Nicky took a little contraption he'd picked up at the drug store out of his pocket and used it to cut the pill in half. "You'll only be out for a short time."

Dave almost said, "He's only going to suck your dick while you're asleep," to be sarcastic, but decided against it. Chris didn't know about all the sexual stuff they'd done.

Why did he think Chris didn't know about that _yet_?

When Nicky came at him with the pill, Chris struggled, pushing himself up the couch. "No, no, I don't want that."

"Chris, don't fight! It's okay, just take it," Dave said. It was no use, Nicky was going to get what he wanted one way or another, and Chris could get hurt if he protested.

Chris was panicking too much to stop. Nicky climbed on the couch and straddled Chris's waist, sitting on him. He was chuckling. Chris struggled to get out from under him, but there was nowhere to go. Nicky rode the bucking bronco for a short time, enjoying it, before leaning down and taking hold of Chris's face. "Take the damn pill, or I'll get Dave's gun and blow Taylor's head off. Do you want to be responsible for that? Do you want to explain that to his kids? 'I'm sorry, I was afraid to take a pill.' Huh?"

"Okay, don't hurt anyone, okay? I'll take the pill," Chris agreed, his face alarmed. He allowed Nicky to put the half pill in his mouth and give him a swig of beer to wash it down. Nicky insisted he take a few more swallows.

"There we go. That wasn't so hard." Out of nowhere, he leaned in and whispered in Chris's ear. "You like Taylor, don't you? You gotta little thing for him? Hm?" And he kissed the ear, making Chris quiver.

Chris willed himself not to moan out loud at the shockwave that moved through him in reaction. "No," he replied.

"Liar." Nicky grinned from ear to ear as he got up and off of Chris.

Dave was staring at them, unsure what had just happened. This was fun, Nicky thought. Not wanting to leave him out, Nicky swung a leg over Dave and straddled him too, offering him the pill. Dave squirmed under him, one eye on Chris. What would he think?

"Here's yours," Nicky said, and placed the pill on Dave's waiting tongue.

"Alcohol intensifies the effect, right?" Dave said after swallowing down the pill with a few extra swigs of beer.

Nicky nodded. "That's my boy."

He got up and prepared to leave, causing Dave to suddenly call after him with alarm. "Wait, you can't go!"

"Why not?"

"Because... because you might encounter someone. You might... I can't see what you're doing when you're not here, and..." He couldn't keep his composure anymore. "Please, _please_ don't hurt anyone."

"What? Why are you even saying that to me?"

"Because... you... you killed people."

Nicky scoffed. "You think I'm an idiot or something? I just kill anyone I can get my hands on? I may be a 'serial killer,'" He accentuated the words by making air quotes with his fingers. "...but that doesn't mean I'm not discerning. I have a type. I only do it when it's necessary. Anyway, I'm not dumb enough to kill any guy I come upon. You think I want to go back to prison?" Clearly, Dave's concerns made him quite angry. Nicky continued, "If I wanted to kill someone, there isn't a goddamn thing you could do to stop me, so stop acting like you're in control here. I call the shots, not you, not..." Looking at Chris, he snapped his fingers a few times.

He eventually said, "...Chris."

Nicky gave a nod and finished his thought, "...not Chris, and definitely not Taylor. You get that through your thick skull." With that, Nicky went up the stairs and left the house.

Dave was just beginning to feel the effects of the drug. He giggled. "He forgot your name," he said to Chris.

Chris looked over at him. "I'm starting to feel really warm," he said. "Like, good warm. Is that normal?"

"Yeah." This was definitely happening much slower than the last time. Nicky must've given him at least two pills before. "It feels good, huh?"

"It does." They were quiet for a short time. Then Chris asked, "Dave, what's going to happen to us?"

"We're gonna get out of this somehow. You, me, and Taylor." But did he even believe it himself? "Chris, what if... what if he hurts someone while he's out? Taylor would be the one who would get in trouble."

Chris brought up a possibility that only he had considered. "What if... well, what if he's not possessed? Did you ever think maybe Taylor just... you know, kind of flipped his lid? Maybe he's sick, man."

Shaking his head, Dave replied, "No, dude. You saw his eyes. Sometimes they switch between blue and brown, rapidly. That's not normal. That's not mental illness." He sighed. "That's supernatural."

"When do they switch like that? I want to see it."

Dave had no idea what to say. "I don't know how to explain it," he finally said. His voice broke as he voiced more of his fears. "What if the girls get really worried about us and come home? What would Nicky do to my wife if she walked in here?"

"Dave, don't do that," Chris scolded. "Don't start worrying about shit that most likely will not happen. Okay? I need you to keep your head about you. We have to keep our heads and stick together."

Since this whole thing started, Dave hadn't had someone to pour out all of his fears to, except maybe Kurt. Now he had trouble stopping. "Nobody's ever going to believe this, man. If Nicky kills someone, Taylor will be blamed and his life will be ruined. No one will believe a _ghost_ did it."

"Dave? Stop it. You heard him. This guy doesn't want to go back to prison. He just wants to have a good time."

"He wants his life back," Dave added. Laying his head back on the chaise lounge, he sighed and closed his eyes. "Nicky wants to return to life. To use Taylor's body to do whatever he wants. And take whatever he wants."

Biting his bottom lip, Chris thought this would be a good time to voice his own concerns, since Dave had mentioned Nicky taking what he wanted. "Dave, I think he kinda... kinda wants to take... uh... I think he wants to fuck us."

Dave had to laugh. "Yeah. I don't know about you, but he's already... um, expressed his intention to fuck his favorite member of Nirvana, yeah."

"Oh, God... before he left, he asked me if I had a thing for Taylor, and kissed my ear. Dave, what are we gonna do?"

Dave said nothing for several long moments. Finally, he answered, "I don't know, Chris. I think it could get really awkward in here before the night is over. But we just gotta do what we have to to survive."

They both fell silent, each wondering what they would do, how they would handle it, when Nicky inevitably climbed on top of them again. And they fell asleep.

Kurt met them in the mindscape.

 

_Notes: I recently found a picture of Dave on vacation... in Hawaii... with his family... on Spring Break. :O It's a few years old, but it has actually happened. I just picked Hawaii because it's so damn beautiful._


	9. Pieces of the Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt had to laugh. He shook his head. "Your best friend is possessed by a ghost, your old friend who's been dead for more than twenty years comes back chained to a reaper, and you're questioning the existence of witchcraft?"

Wandering the field of soft, white light, Chris found the strength in his legs leaving him. He had to find a place to lie down. His body was somewhere else, handcuffed down to a couch, sleeping, but his consciousness was here, meandering around, looking for a place to rest, to find safety. Somehow, he knew although he didn't know where he was, it was very dangerous here. Claws and teeth lurked around every corner.

And apparently, big white beds with sleeping friends, too.

Taylor lay in the king-sized bed with, strangely, a black and white tuxedo cat snoozing on the pillow above his head. The cat had formed a loaf with his body, legs tucked underneath him, and occasionally let out a purring snore.

Chris would have climbed right in, as comfortable and inviting as everything looked, but there were four frightening, bloody handprints on various parts of the end of the bed. He swayed in place, unsure what to do.

"Get in the bed before they come back. Stay in the light."

Chris looked to his left and gasped. He was dreaming, right? The man standing there was Kurt Cobain, looking exactly as he had when he died. Except for the very odd fact that he was wearing a leather collar with three spikes left on it, with a chain attached. A leash. "What the fuck am I dreaming?"

"It's not entirely a dream. Your souls are in real danger here." Kurt pointed to the bed. "You see how the edges are in shadow? Stay in the middle with Taylor. Stay in the light." He gave Chris a light shove toward the bed.

Chris started to climb in to Taylor's left, trying to avoid the bloody handprints. "Hi, uh, I'm Chris."

"I know." Kurt looked over his shoulder.

"Why are you here?" He laid down next to Taylor. "Oh wow, this is the most comfortable bed ever."

"I'm trying to help. Like I said, you guys are in danger here, and I'm being allowed to try to help you stay alive." Kurt checked to make sure every part of Chris's body was inside the field of soft light that shone on most of the bed.

"Why?" Chris asked.

Looking over his shoulder again, Kurt said quietly, "Because Dave has made himself a beautiful life, and you guys are his friends. So much would be destroyed if Nicky Kelly gets what he wants. I can't sit back and allow that to happen."

A strange clucking, like that of a chattering bird, came out of the white mist beyond the bed. The sound wasn't intelligible to Chris, but it did have a rhythm to it, like something was speaking out there. Kurt responded, "I know. I was about to go look for him." The chattering continued. The sound made Chris's head hurt a little. "Yeah, I'm aware of that, Boddah. Jesus, will you chill out? ...I'm going right now! God. I just want to make sure this guy is tucked in first so one of Kelly's demons doesn't rip his arm off for a snack. Is that okay with you?"

"Cronk, cronk!" the bird-thing said.

Boddah? Chris tried to remember where he'd heard that name before, but only after he pulled all of his limbs close to his body and moved in next to Taylor, clearly within the boundaries of the light.

Taylor smacked his lips like he was thirsty. "Beer looks good," he mumbled in his sleep. "Can I have some?"

The cat stretched and yawned.

A piercing roar came out of the mist. Chris felt his entire body tense, and a cold chill swept up and down his back and limbs. Oh God, this was quickly becoming a nightmare.

"Munchie get off the counter!" Taylor yelled in reaction, and took a deep breath through his nose before going limp again. The cat growled deep in his throat, but otherwise did not move.

Chris glared at him.

"Fuck," Kurt exclaimed. He took off toward the noise.

Dave knew this was the mindscape, the place he'd been before, the place where Taylor was asleep and helpless and where Kurt had kissed him for the first time in twenty-three years. But where in the mindscape, he didn't know. It was all just a field of white. Where was the bed? Where was Kurt? Dave's legs were giving out. The Morphecil was putting him to sleep, through and through. Soon, he would float on a soothing, black cloud.

Nearby, something screamed. It was a horrible, terrifying sound.

Dave stumbled and fell. A creature enveloped in a black hooded cloak came and stood next to him. Dave couldn't see its feet; the cloak reached the floor. As he looked up, and up, and up, he realized the creature stood about eight feet tall. One hand made of clacking human bones held the other end of a chain, wrapped around its fist. The hood shifted and he could see beady black eyes and a sleek beard of feathers, and then a grey-black beak cried, "Auck! Auck! Auck!"

It was some kind of giant bird thing. A raven, maybe? Dave had never seen anything like that, and he screamed.

Kurt ran in and grabbed him, his feet almost sliding out from under him. "Stop screaming, stop, it's okay! That's just Boddah. Come on!" He hauled the other man up and threw Dave's arm over his shoulders, then ran with him toward the big bed. Dave tried to keep up, but Kurt was doing most of the work.

"That's Boddah?" Dave tried to ask, but Kurt was too focused on getting him to safety. "He's real?"

The roaring thing screeched again, much closer this time.

Before they made it to the bed, Dave realized that the chain in Boddah's hand led back to the collar around Kurt's neck. Boddah wasn't an imaginary friend, he was some sort of handler for...

For the dead?

Raven. Hooded cloak. Clacking bones.

He was Kurt's reaper. Boddah was a reaper, waiting for years for Kurt to die. Jesus, had it really been possible for that long?

Kurt said, "Upsie daisy," and tossed Dave into the bed. "Woo, you're a lot heavier than you used to be. You gettin' a little belly there, Dave?" He goosed Dave's tummy with an amused grin before picking up his feet and putting them into the bed too.

All the movement on the bed made Taylor turn over and mumble, "Bouncy bouncy."

"Hey, I've reached the ripe old age of forty-eight. I've earned this belly." Dave looked at Kurt's collar and his much more youthful face, his age frozen in time, and pouted sadly.

Kurt made sure every part of Dave's body was inside the light and breathed a sigh of relief. He sank to his knees next to the bed and leaned on it, laying his arms across it and his chin on his arms, taking a moment to rest. Kurt smiled at Dave. "Don't look at me like that," he said. "What's done is done. You lived on and earned every year of life beyond me. I made my bed and now I lie in it. It's okay." Kurt leaned up a little and fingered the collar. "I've learned to live with what I have to do. Or, not to _live_ with it, but..."

"Don't do that. Don't joke about it," Dave said quietly.

"Why not? It's the kind of thing that can destroy you if you don't learn to laugh about it. Or maybe you just avoid thinking about it altogether?"

"Yeah, I guess. Just, not now, not now." Dave turned to his left to check on everyone else. Chris had fallen asleep next to Taylor, who continued to sleep as if he'd been deeply sedated, save for the occasional outburst of talking in his sleep. Curling up next to Taylor and snoozing for a while sounded great, but first, Dave had to make sure that Kurt was okay. "So why are you chained to Boddah? Is he actually some kind of reaper?"

Kurt nodded as he replied, "Very good, Dave. All those weirdass books you read to pass the time on the road sometimes pay off."

"One of them talked about psychopomps. Reapers. They're associated with different types of animals, like ravens." Dave watched the chain sway lightly as it dangled off into the mist. Boddah was keeping his distance. "I have a million questions, but I'm fighting sleep as it is. Let me just ask... are you okay? Why are you chained to Boddah?"

Kurt took a deep breath and sighed it out. "You're persistent with those questions. Because he's my companion while I try to make amends. For hurting so many people when I killed myself."

Tears came to Dave's eyes, but he did not shed them. "I'm sorry."

Kurt shrugged. "It's what I have to do. I've accepted it." He patted Dave's arm. "I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Remember when you were working too hard and couldn't sleep and the doctor gave you the instructions for meditation along with the Morphecil?"

"Uh huh."

"Do you remember how to meditate?"

"Pretty much," Dave replied.

"Keep that in mind. I may need you to come in here and talk to me when you're not asleep. Meditation will make it happen," Kurt explained.

"Okay, I will." He paused, then said, "Kurt, earlier today, when Nicky was about to... you know what he was about to do, I heard your voice telling me to cry to get him to stop. What happened there?"

Leaning his chin on his palm, Kurt said, "Sometimes I can talk to you by telepathy, but it takes a lot of energy." He pointed from his head to Dave's. "I'm sorry I had to put those horrible pictures in your head, but we had to make the tears happen really quick. When I spoke to you, you could barely hear me, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's because you were further away from the statue than usual. It's the whole reason this whole mindmeld is possible." Kurt spread his arms out a bit to indicate the area of white light in which they were all currently congregating. "It's why all of your minds come together when you sleep."

"What is it about the statue that makes this happen?" Dave asked.

"It's been mojoed. It's had a spell put on it. A witch trapped Kelly's soul in the statue and you guys accidentally let it out."

"Witches and witchcraft, all that stuff is real?"

Kurt had to laugh. He shook his head. "Your best friend is possessed by a ghost, your old friend who's been dead for more than twenty years comes back chained to a reaper, and you're questioning the existence of witchcraft?"

After a second to consider it, Dave had to laugh too. "Just because I'm open doesn't mean I believe in everything right off."

"Well, trust me, the statue's been magicked up its plastic ass."

"Why did some witch put Nicky's soul in the statue?"

Kurt clucked his tongue and shook his head. "I can't tell you that just yet. It interferes too much with fate." With a little grin, Kurt leaned forward and gave him a small kiss on the mouth. "You were always so curious."

Dave's eyes opened and closed slowly. "Am I going to be blind in my dreams now, like the last time he gave me the Morphecil? I really didn't like that."

Kurt frowned. "Dave, when you experienced the blindness, you just couldn't open your eyes. The drug is very strong and very sedating, but it did allow you to wake up just a little. The things you were feeling were really happening."

Swallowing hard, Dave said, "So the sicko did suck me off while I was out cold. What makes him think he can do whatever the fuck he wants to people?"

"Dave, he's really warped, and very dangerous. You've really got to humor him until we can figure a way out of this."

Over Kurt's shoulder, Dave saw someone enter the scene, or maybe it was some _thing._ It looked like a man dressed in a Fedora style hat and long, brown duster coat, but his hands had claws and his skin looked like leather. When he grinned at the sights before him, Dave could see his sharp, shark-like teeth. "Well, well... three in the bed and the little one said..."

"Kurt, you get in here with us," Dave said, desperately taking hold of Kurt's sleeve.

Kurt smiled at him. "You think I'm afraid of this waste of skin?" He winked, then stood up to face the creature.

"Well... lo and behold, it's the illustrious Kurt Cobain." He swung a set of keys on a chain attached to his coat. "Everybody's heard of you."

Kurt didn't acknowledge what the man had said. "I haven't had the pleasure of learning your name."

"It's Len, friend." He looked past Kurt to the treasure trove of souls in the bed. "You're taking care of all these guys? Since when has life meant anything to you?"

Trying to prove that the things Len said didn't faze him, Kurt sang, "That legendary suicide is such a boooore," and played air drums to follow himself up.

Len mock-laughed. "Come on, Kurt, we all know you're out of your league here. Kelly's my bitch. You wanna see the pictures of the sick shit I got him to do to his victims? Do you really want to be around when I convince him to cut your boy's head off? 'Cause Kelly's been listening to me since before you started talking to Boddah."

"I'm doing okay, friend," Kurt replied, putting extra, sarcastic emphasis on the word 'friend.' "Thanks for your concern."

The demon eyed the collar around Kurt's neck. He lightly touched one of the spikes. "Only three left, huh? You might be able to get rid of this one," Len wiggled the spike under his finger, "...but you'll _never_ talk your way out of the other two."

Kurt couldn't help but be bothered by what the demon had said; he smacked his hand away. Len grinned and snickered. "Just be ready to get the fuck out of here when I send your precious Nicky back where he came from," Kurt said. "He can't keep that mojo working forever. The spells aren't even his."

"It's all in how you manipulate the power available to you, Kurt. You know that. It's how Boddah got you in here."

Kurt looked at the demon like he wanted his head to explode into a million pieces. "That's Mr. Cobain to you."

Len chuckled, a hand to his mouth. "Have you even considered that if you fail, your soul could be consumed here too?"

"What have I got to lose?" Kurt asked with a shrug.

Len immediately replied, "Over twenty years of amends." Then he added, "The chance to have your daughter forgive you."

Kurt stood and said nothing, only glared.

Dave swallowed down the lump of emotion in his throat. Their words were cryptic, but he thought he understood.

His smile widening, Len shrugged too. "It's up to you." He walked away as if on his way out, but took a moment to stop at the foot of the bed. He could see Dave was the only one still awake. "If you care about Kurt, you'll tell him to get out of here. Save himself." With that, Len strolled into the mist, his seeds of doubt clearly placed.

Kurt came to the side of the bed. "Good for him he left. I was just about to kick his ass," he said with a grin.

"Kurt... are you sure you're okay? After what he said..."

"I don't want you to pay any attention to _anything_ that asshole spat out of his mealy little mouth. Okay?" Kurt hated that the things Len said were making Dave worry about him. "He wanted to get under your skin."

"But, if you're in any danger - "

Sitting on the side of the bed, Kurt declared, "I'm not leaving until you're all safe. I won't talk anymore about it."

The tone of his voice told Dave he meant it. "Will you stay here with me 'til I fall asleep?"

"Sure." Sitting crosslegged on the bed, Kurt reached out and brushed stray hairs off Dave's forehead. "You sleep off the Morphecil."

Dave wanted to ask more questions. There were so many things he didn't know. But the motion of Kurt's hand as he stroked the hair out of Dave's eyes was too hypnotic, and the drug too strong to resist anymore. His mind drifted off to sleep as his body had, and he eventually somehow made his way to Taylor.

*****

Dave didn't recognize the room. He did recognize the person crouched on the floor of the kitchen, however, holding the black and white cat. "Taylor!"

Taylor barely had time to look up before Dave caught him up in a mighty hug. Dave noticed Taylor was wearing the clothes he had on the night of the séance. Taylor didn't hug him back because he'd have to let go of the cat, and for some reason, he didn't want to do that. "Shhhh, shhh!" Taylor shushed desperately. "He might hear you!"

Dave didn't want to waste any time. He took Taylor's face in his hands. "Tee, you have to wake up! You're possessed by the ghost we contacted through the Ouija board. If you don't take your body back, he's going to wind up killing us all!"

Taylor's eyes were glassy, unfocused. He held up the cat. "This is Munchie. He keeps me company."

Dave realized he was shaking, too. "Taylor, he's got you under a spell! Please, what do I have to do to wake you up?"

Someone screamed. "No, God, put that down!"

Dave followed the scream with his eyes. A man was handcuffed and tied down to a chair. Was that Nicky Kelly approaching him with a knife? Yes, it was Nicky. Dave recognized him from the picture.

Taylor curled in on himself, hugging the cat. Munchie made a sound that was half growl and half purr. "I won't look. I can't see anymore."

This was Nicky's house. These were his crimes. Is this where Taylor had been trapped all this time? In Nicky Kelly's memories?

Nicky climbed into the guy's lap and cut his shirt open, snickering. The man keened in fright. He made much louder noises as Nicky began to carve into his chest.

Dave felt the pain like it was his chest that was being carved. He looked down to see blood running down his stomach in thin rivulets. But he was no longer in Nicky's house. This was really happening.

Nicky, still in Taylor's body, had a small knife he'd taken from Dave's kitchen and was using it to carve letters into the right side of his chest, the side with no tattoo. Although Dave was still half asleep from the Morphecil, he could feel all of the pain of what Nicky was doing. Grimacing, he said, "Nicky, stop! What are you doing?"

"I'm almost done," was his only explanation.

Dave yelped in pain. As Nicky drew the last line in his skin, he realized what he had done.

_MINE_ , it said. _MINE_. Nicky had marked him as property.

He sat back and surveyed his work, panting and smiling. Nicky dabbed at the word with a towel to sop up some of the blood. "If I went deep enough, it could be permanent."

 

_**Author's Notes:** Oh yeah, and some chapters will be named after Birds of Satan songs. :D _

__

_Look at the amazing art Crisco_Twister (on Rockfic) did for me!! She really captured Kurt and my version of Boddah very well. Thank you, hon! I love it!!!_


	10. Razor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Next thing I know, Taylor is stripping off his clothes and getting down on the floor, playing with himself the whole time." Chris's eyes were a little wild as he recounted the story. "It was hot as shit."

Warning: This chapter contains sex while high on drugs, which some could consider dub-con.

 

Angry, Dave didn't consider that he was speaking to a crazy person. He just started yelling. "What the hell did you do that for?! What gives you the right..." He trailed off as Nicky leaned down and licked some of the blood off his chest. Obviously, he was having some sort of moment, his eyes closed and mouth panting.

Dave tried to reach him. "Go get the bandages."

"No," Nicky said, shaking his head. "I want this to scar. I'll monitor it to make sure it doesn't get infected, but I want it to be permanent."

"I don't."

"You say that as if it matters." He caught another rivulet of blood with his tongue and followed it up Dave's chest, taking the nearby nipple in his mouth and sucking it.

"So the truth comes out. Before, you were saying you and Taylor could learn to live in the same body, but that's not the truth. You want to steal his body and hold me captive. It doesn't matter what I want. You're torturing Taylor by trapping him in your most violent memories, aren't you? Trying to break his will?"

Nicky blinked at him, trying not to lose his buzz. "How do you know that?"

"I had a dream. It was too real." Did Nicky know Kurt was involved, and the things he was showing them?

Nicky stared at him a moment longer, then dabbed at his wounds with the towel again. The blood was drying up. "I guess you found me out. But it's only because I love you and want you all to myself."

Dave considered continuing with his current train of conversation, but realized it would be pointless and a bad idea. Instead, he said, "It really hurts. Can you please bandage it up?"

For several seconds, Nicky did not answer him, just stared dreamily at the word he'd carved into Dave's chest. Eventually, he looked up. "I won't bandage it. But I did get you something for pain while I was out." He got up and went over to a couple shopping bags at the foot of the stairs.

This gave Dave a chance to survey the room. Chris was still asleep on the couch. Some of the lights were off. Had Nicky come back from running his errands and immediately climbed on top of him with the knife? It seemed that way - he hadn't even taken the time to unpack the shopping bags. Why had he come back with such a jones to carve MINE into Dave's chest? Was it the idea of watching movies about himself and his crimes that had gotten him so worked up?

Nicky came back with a soda in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. He straddled him again, purposefully settling Taylor's crotch right on top of Dave's. Dave made a small noise of surprise. Nicky opened the bottle and fished out two pills. "Open your mouth."

"What're those?"

"Vicodin. You had an old prescription in your nightstand you never filled. The pharmacist recognized me and had no problem filling it for Dave Grohl's bandmate and best friend." Nicky grinned, showing him the bottle.

"Wow, there really is no such thing as privacy with you, is there?"

Ignoring the comment, Nicky said, "Why do you bother going to the doctor if you're not going to fill the prescriptions they give you?" He looked at Dave expectantly.

Dave knew there was no fighting this. He would refuse to take the Vicodin and Nicky would threaten to kill Taylor and he would take the pills anyway, so instead of going through that song and dance, Dave just opened his mouth. Nicky put the pills on his tongue and gave him some soda to wash them down with. "Those will take a little bit to take effect. You want something to eat?"

Dave did; he was hungry. Nicky got the lap tray and the fast food he'd bought for lunch and fed it all to him. "I already ate," he said, squeezing ketchup onto Dave's curly fries. By the time they were done, Dave was feeling more than fine from the two Vicodin pills. But that's what Nicky wanted, wasn't it?

He felt warm and perfectly comfortable. Soon, the soaring feeling would overtake him, and a smile would be plastered on his face. Why hadn't he filled this prescription before? Vicodin was awesome. "My chest stopped hurting," Dave reported, and giggled.

Nicky grinned at him. "You feeling good, baby?"

Dave nodded. Oh, here came the feeling of soaring around the room, out the window, into the sky! His eyes became a little unfocused as Nicky removed the tray and climbed into his lap again, rubbing his crotch against Dave's. Dave let out a little moan.

Nicky took the other man's face in his hands and began to kiss him. Dave was feeling too good to resist. Within half a minute, Dave found himself hard and shaking, enjoying the lapdance Taylor was giving him. But, was it Taylor? Dave looked and saw the ever-changing eyes, and smiled. He didn't give a shit if Nicky was there too. All he cared about was his hot, sexy Taylor rocking back and forth on top of him, breathing hard and moaning, looking so good with his half-lidded eyes and mouth open in ecstasy. And as long as they were doing this, Taylor wasn't in Nicky's memories, being tortured.

"Mm... Dave..." he breathed. He grabbed the sides of the chaise lounge and leaned back to give himself plenty of traction so he could grind down on Dave harder. Dave watched Taylor's hips work for a moment before throwing his head back and lifting his hips so he could grind back.

In the mindscape, Chris was starting to wake up. He realized something weird was going on next to him, and lifted his head.

Taylor was tossing in the bed next to him, but it was clearly not a nightmare making him do so. He was moaning and crying out in pleasure as if someone was touching him, writhing under the attentions of a phantom lover. "Oh Dave... Dave," he panted.

Watching him, Chris realized he was rolling his hips against someone who wasn't there, and the gyrations had made his dick hard. The bedsheets were tenting over his crotch. Chris had to laugh; it was an awkward thing to have going on right next to you. Then he heard someone else laugh too, and looked up.

Kurt sat crosslegged on the bed, Munchie the cat on his lap. He couldn't stop giggling. Eventually, he had to turn his head to the side and partially cover his mouth with a curled hand.

Laughing with him, Chris asked, "What's with Taylor?"

"You're gonna have to wake up all the way to see that," Kurt replied, and snorted.

At that moment, Chris realized he really didn't know how to get out of this place. "How do I - "

Chris awoke on the couch with a start. He still felt a bit groggy from the Morphecil, but that feeling would wear off, he thought. Still, he tried to move his hands, forgetting they were shackled to the bar. Sounds coming from nearby stole his attention, and Chris immediately stopped thinking about the fact that he couldn't lower his arms once he saw Taylor on top of Dave. This is why Taylor was moaning and writhing in the bed. This is why Dave was so underdressed from the moment Chris came into the house. Nicky had been keeping him almost naked to assert dominance over him. And probably to make what they were doing easier from a practical standpoint. Chris's mouth hung open in shock.

Dave wasn't resisting. He clearly liked getting off with this ghost. At least, that's what Chris thought at first. But he quickly realized the only person Dave wanted to be with was Taylor. Dave wanted to be with Taylor?! "Holy shit," he said out loud.

Nicky looked over his shoulder at him, and Chris saw the changing eyes. Blue, brown, blue, brown, bluebrownbluebrownbluebrown... this is what Dave had meant. And that meant Taylor wanted Dave too.

Why hadn't he seen this before?

While Nicky grinned at him mischievously, Dave looked at him in surprise and then averted his eyes, turning his gaze anywhere but at Chris. A huge secret, a whispered suspicion, had been revealed.

That's when Chris noticed the drying blood and Nicky's carving work.

"You fucking sicko, what have you done to him?!" he yelled.

Panting, Nicky snapped, "Can it wait? Kinda busy," and put his attention back on the motion of his hips.

Dave tried to calm Chris down. "Is'okay, Chris. I'm okay."

Chris wanted more of an explanation of pretty much everything he'd seen since he woke up, but figured he wasn't going to get the best responses until they were done, so he decided to wait. Soon after, Dave pulled hard at the handcuffs with his hands balled into fists and his head thrown back and came, thrusting his hips up against Taylor's crotch. Nicky took hold of his face, putting their foreheads together, and talked him through the orgasm, which seemed quite intense. "Come on, baby, cum for me, baby... that's it... this is all mine... all for me..." Watching Dave shake and listening to him pant and moan, Nicky kissed him, obviously satisfied with himself.

Chris wasn't sure he needed an explanation for the word carved into Dave's chest now, although he definitely had something to say about it.

Kissing him one more time, Nicky got up and loomed over him, watching Dave still breathing hard for a little while longer. "I love you like this. All spent and feeling good." He stepped around the chaise lounge and flopped into one of the chairs, sinking low into it so his spread open crotch would be sticking out.

Dave panted, "You didn't cum."

With a shrug, he replied, "I want to save it up. Somebody's going to fuck me tonight and make me cum so hard I see stars."

Dave worked his jaw, unsure what to say. He didn't want to spoil his first time with Taylor, but if he didn't do what Nicky wanted, how would he react? Would he get angry and carve into Dave further, or just turn to the other man in the room for sex? Would Chris even want it? Would Nicky rape him if he said no?

Of course he would.

Not knowing what to do, Dave watched Nicky rub his hand over his crotch provocatively.

"Dave... how long have you and Taylor felt this way about each other?" Chris asked. "Have you been keeping a relationship secret from the rest of us?"

Dave shook his head. "I've been in love with Taylor since about 2001, at least. How long he's wanted me, I don't know. But this is the first time we've done anything sexual." He glared at Nicky. "Since Nicky showed up."

"Oh God, Dave, I'm so sorry. If I had known, I never would have - "

"It's okay, Chris. You didn't know."

Nicky swiveled one way and then the other in the chair, looking at the two men and wondering what they were talking about. He rubbed absently at the erection poking at his pants again.

It was something Nicky kept doing as he forced them all to watch the first of the movies made about him. His level of arousal just seemed to increase the more memories he relived through the film. "This guy is almost too good-looking to play me. It's a nice compliment, though. Oh, next is a really good sex scene." Nicky leaned back in the chair to watch.

Furrowing his brow, Dave said, "How would you know? You died long before this movie was made."

Nicky, after briefly freezing, finally shrugged. He refused to explain any more.

When the sex scene was over, Nicky was obviously much more aroused than before. He rubbed hard at his erect cock through the tough denim and hissed. "I am so turned on right now. Mmm. I need somebody to fuck me before I burst." Looking at Dave, he waited.

Dave looked away, biting his lip. He didn't want to do this with Nicky still in Taylor's body. He wanted their first time to be romantic. Intimate. Perfect.

Trying to make Dave jealous, Nicky rolled the chair back and put a hand on the inside of Chris's thigh, massaging it. Chris jumped in surprise. "How about you, boy-oh? You wanna fuck Taylor, hm? Was I right when I said you had a thing for him?"

Chris squirmed, repeatedly looking down at the hand on his thigh. Clearing his throat, he replied, "You gotta understand, Taylor's like sex on legs; he's just got this vibe, and... I... but..." He finally finished, "I promised my wife that wouldn't happen again."

Mouth agape, Nicky looked at Dave. He was looking away, but Nicky could still see the hurt on his face, the sad cast of his eyebrows and pout to his mouth. "You promised your wife you wouldn't _fuck Taylor again?_ How did that happen?!"

Clearly reluctant to discuss it in Dave's company, Chris looked from one man to the other. "Um... Dave, are you going to be okay if I talk about this?"

Dave shrugged. There was no point to saying no.

"Okay. Well, it was the end of our tour for 'Wasting Light.' We had a really big party, and things got a little crazy. Our wives weren't there. It was our 'no wives' party, so we could get a stripper."

Nicky clucked his tongue at Dave, enjoying this already. "You dog."

Dave didn't respond, just looking away.

Rolling his eyes, Chris continued, "Our wives understand that shit. They married hard rock musicians. It's not like anyone was going to fuck her. Anyway, everybody was off somewhere else. They'd already had their turn. It was just me and Taylor in the room. We'd had way too much to drink when the stripper came in. It was the end of a tour and we needed to party hard. You know?"

Nicky nodded.

"The girl was anxious to make as much money as possible, and she offered to go further than a lap dance, that she would blow us both for additional bucks. Taylor said no, that it wasn't necessary, because he could bend over so far that he could suck his own dick. I thought he was just talking, joking, you know. A drunk boast. So the stripper said she didn't believe it and dared him to take his dick out and suck it.

"Next thing I know, Taylor is stripping off his clothes and getting down on the floor, playing with himself the whole time, and at first we're all laughing. He explains that he inherited a spinal defect that allows him to be really flexible, and his cock gets pretty decently sized when he's hard, so he could suck it. Then Taylor goes, 'This is the easiest position to do it in,' and lays on his back. He pulls his legs up so his ass is sticking in the air and practically puts his ankles behind his ears, easy as pie, and we're really laughing now. Including Taylor. I mean, it was like one of those circus contortionists. His dick was hanging right in his face. Then he put it in his mouth as far as he could and started to moan and suck himself off, and everybody stopped laughing." Chris's eyes were a little wild as he recounted the story. "It was hot as shit."

Astounded, Nicky looked at Dave, then Taylor's crotch, and back at Dave. He was just now realizing what this meant. "Did you know about this?"

Dave sighed. "Taylor said as much years ago, but I also thought it was just Taylor being Taylor, and I never dared him to prove it." He looked at Chris. "Chris telling us the story of what happened was the first I heard of it being true."

Again, Nicky looked at Taylor's crotch. He snickered, long and hard. "Go on with your story," he said to Chris, but Dave knew what he was thinking.

"Okay." Chris glanced at both men and swallowed hard, afraid he was hurting Dave by telling it. "The stripper said this was the hottest thing she'd ever seen, and offered to masturbate for us if we paid her more, and I said okay, just kind of waving her off, because I had all the entertainment I needed. I mean, it _was_ one of the hottest shows ever. It was like a porno. Taylor was fucking his own mouth and really liking it and it was turning me on."

Nicky resumed rubbing his inner thigh. "Just how many bisexual guys does this band have anyway?"

"Oh, I'm not bisexual. Taylor's the only guy I ever wanted. I like women."

Nicky snorted. "So, you fucked a _guy_... but you're not bisexual."

Dave cut in, "Is this really the right time to debate sexual identity?"

"Right, right." Nicky shifted a little in the chair, face flushed. "So then what happened?"

"I sat on the couch next to where the stripper was taking off her clothes and just opened my pants and started beating off. Neither of us was even watching the chick, we were looking at each other. Taylor gets up, comes over to me, and starts begging me to fuck him. He says he occasionally likes to be fucked, that Alison had pegged him before, but he prefers to be fucked by a real dick. Before I can stop him, Taylor starts giving me a blowjob, and I didn't stop him." His eyes were even wilder than before. Nicky noticed a lump in his pants, and grinned. "I was so turned on. The stripper loved it."

"So you fucked him."

"I didn't have to move a muscle. After he got me extra hard, Taylor just climbs into my lap and the next thing I know, I'm inside him and we're fucking, no condom. All I could think is shit, Cara's gonna kill me. But it felt so good, I didn't stop him."

"How did she find out?"

"I told her. I felt guilty. She almost left me. That's why I promised her it would never happen again. So you see, I can't be the one who..." Chris looked at the hand, rubbing his thigh. "Please stop that."

"Oh... but you've got me really worked up, mister." Nicky rolled himself out of the chair and right into Chris's lap, straddling him and rapidly unbuttoning his shirt.

"No, no, come on, man."

Nicky opened his shirt and rubbed Chris's chest. "Jesus, Dave, have you seen all these tattoos? I think he's more tatted up than you are."

"Leave him alone. He said he doesn't want to."

"Make me," Nicky challenged. He moved down to undo Chris's pants.

Chris sounded like he was holding back tears. "God, please, don't, my wife..."

When Dave saw Chris's cock in Nicky's hand, he said, "Nicky, come on, please, be human."

"Make. Me," Nicky repeated. Chris whimper-moaned and pulled at the handcuffs as Nicky began to stroke his cock. When he leaned down and gave the head of the hard dick a good licking, Dave spoke up again.

"Fine. _Fine_ , motherfucker. Stop it. Leave Chris alone."

Nicky leaned up, looking at him with hope. "You'll be with me instead?"

"What do you think I'm saying?"

"This is the fulfillment of a dream." Nicky stood up, leaving Chris in his excited state, but it made Chris heave a sigh of relief. Truthfully, Cara probably would have forgiven him for it if she ever believed the circumstances, but he would still feel guilty, thinking of how much she cried the first time.

Sitting on the side of the chaise lounge, Nicky asked, "What would your wife think if she knew you fucked Taylor?"

"She'd think it finally happened."

"You and Jordyn have discussed this before?"

"Me and Jordyn have talked about this before, yes. I swore her to secrecy because I thought it would never happen."

Nicky didn't waste any time; he stroked at Dave's cock through his underwear. Dave was already part of the way there. He writhed sinuously under the wandering hand. "Have you ever seen Taylor do the flexibility trick?"

Dave shook his head.

"Do you want to? Would you like to see him cum in his own mouth?"

Dave nodded vigorously.

"Okay, then." Nicky unbuttoned his jeans.

"Wait. I want to tell you something first."

His hands still, Nicky looked at him.

Dave couldn't hold it in. "I hate you for this, Nicky. I wanted my first time with Taylor to be perfect, just the two of us. Instead, you'll be there, and Taylor won't be completely conscious of the fact that this is really happening. You're ruining this experience for me."

The reaction he got was unexpected. Instead of getting upset and making an in-character threat, Nicky smiled, evil and calculated. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

"Maybe you do remember, but you don't realize... you were quite drunk that night."

"Nicky, cut the shit. What are you getting at?" Dave growled. If Nicky didn't get on with it, he might lose his nerve.

"Well, you see... I have access to Taylor's memories, because I'm possessing his body. Before he joined the band, shortly before he joined the band, in fact, you encountered him in a record store..."

The world seemed to stop for a moment. Dave's mouth fell open. "What...? No. No, that's impossible. I was drunk, yeah, but I remember a lot about that night, and that guy's name was - " Suddenly devastated, Dave couldn't speak at first; it was written all over his face. "...Oh. He told me his name was Oh."

Nicky made sure he remembered, "Oliver starts with O."

Snippets of their conversation came back to him. Everything was fuzzy, a little blurry. Kissing Taylor, Taylor insisting on wearing his sunglasses practically the whole time, except when he was behind him, licking, so slowly. _"What's your name?"_

_"Oh."_

_"Your name is Oh? So what am I supposed to moan while we're going at it, oh Oh?"_

_Taylor snickering in reaction._

All these years, how he had built this moment up in his head, only to find out it had already happened. He had left feeling disappointed, unsatisfied. Dave's eyes filled with tears. "God, Taylor. When you realized I didn't know it was you, why didn't you tell me?" He hung his head and cried.

Chris wasn't sure what they were talking about, but Dave's tears moved him, and he looked at Nicky and said, "You're a monster."

Ignoring him, Nicky finished, "So as you can see, you've already fucked Taylor."

 

_**Notes:** The idea for Taylor to be this flexible comes from actor Misha Collins, who, um, actually has this spinal defect._


	11. End of the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know it's bizarre for the two of us to be having deep conversations and making out when there's a homicidal ghost possessing my body, but I really want to kiss you right now, Dave. Do you want to...?"
> 
> "Tee, I want anything that you want."

_**Warning:** This story contains a lot of MAN CRYING, especially these next few chapters. I think these are situations where men could be moved to cry, but I wanted to warn for it anyway in case you're bothered by that sort of thing._

_In this chapter, Nicky says some unpleasant things about Kurt's suicide._

 

The smile upon Taylor's face oozed venom, but it was not Taylor in that moment who wore the expression. "I know he hurt you, Dave. Taylor shouldn't have kept this secret from you. But I thought you should know." He moved in for a kiss, sliding his hands up the sides of Dave's neck and into his hair.

Nicky jumped at the other man's unexpected reaction. "Get off me," Dave commanded. As he raised his head, Nicky just looked at him, bewildered. _"Get off me!"_ Dave suddenly screamed. His eyes wide, Nicky shook his head, getting up and moving to the side of the chaise lounge. Dave was more upset at him than he had expected. Before he knew what was happening, Dave was using his knee to shove him. Nicky reached for him, the chaise, something to keep him from falling, but then Dave placed a foot against his side and pushed as hard as he could. Nicky landed on his side with a grunt, a few feet away from the chaise lounge.

As he looked up at Dave in stunned shock, Dave exploded. _"That wasn't your secret to tell!"_ he yelled through his tears. "It was Taylor's! It's something he probably would have told me once _you_ were gone and we had a chance to have a serious talk, but you just had to get a dig in, didn't you?"

"I'm not the one who lied to you!" Nicky said, trying to cut in.

Dave interrupted him, not allowing him to hijack the conversation. "No, you're the one who _drugged_ me and _chained me up_ and _raped_ me!"

His eyebrows dipped in the middle; Nicky was baffled by this accusation. "I didn't rape you."

"What do you think you're doing right now?! You think Taylor and I want you here while we make love?!"

"Would you and Taylor have ever 'made love' if I hadn't possessed him?" Nicky shot back. "You'd still be pretending you didn't want each other!"

Beginning to feel the weariness of everything he'd been through, Dave hung his head again, sobbing. "I hate you," he said, hair in his face. "You're trying to make me hate Taylor, but it will NEVER! HAPPEN!"

Tears standing in his eyes, Chris tried to comfort his friend from across the room. "Oh, Dave... it'll be okay. Somehow, it's gonna be okay."

Nicky watched him for several seconds, regret washing over him. Then he scurried back up on the side of the chaise lounge, taking Dave's face in his hands and kissing away his tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I went too far." He kissed Dave's lips, but Dave did not kiss back. "I just love you so much, I want you all to myself." More kisses that were not returned. "You love me too, I know you do."

Dave didn't correct him; there was no point. Instead, he poured his heart out, hoping Taylor would hear him. "I want my Taylor back, I want my Tee."

His sobs tore out Nicky's black heart. He kissed Dave again. "You can't help it, it's only been a short time since you lost him. I know you miss Taylor." Nicky tried to make Dave laugh. "You wanna see his flexibility trick now?"

"No," Dave replied, his voice icy cold. "That's Taylor's trick, not yours."

Not knowing how to win Dave back, Nicky offered, "I'll let you talk to him, okay? For just a little bit. I can still keep control from in here."

"What do you mean?" His question was answered as he looked into Taylor's eyes. But they were still switching color, just much more slowly. Hazel brown... blue... hazel brown..... blue.....

"Dave..." There was a definite shift in the speaking voice, like Taylor was more there than he had been since Nicky possessed him. More awake. "...I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth."

Dave couldn't help it, he burst into fresh tears. "Taylor, Taylor, Taylor..."

"Shhhhh..." Taylor kissed him, holding his face in his hands. "Don't cry, okay? Don't cry."

"Are you awake? Can you control your body?" Dave semi-whispered, as if he could keep Nicky from hearing him by speaking quietly.

Taylor shifted a little, testing what he could do. He looked Dave over and his entire face became troubled by what he saw, but still, he barely moved. "No. I think I need to get a key, to uncuff you, but my body refuses to move. I think I want to kiss you, and..." Leaning forward, he kissed Dave's mouth. Dave gratefully and enthusiastically kissed back. "I'm being controlled. The ghost... I could feel hands, holding my wrists down, and a voice whispered, 'Go to sleep, Taylor. Stay asleep.' Right in my ear."

"The ghost possessed you," Dave confirmed.

Taylor, considering that, sighed. "This is really happening."

Dave nodded.

Overwhelmed, Taylor closed his eyes and barely moved for a short time. He said, "Part of me is still asleep. I don't know how to wake up."

Trying to reassure him, Dave said, "We'll figure it out."

Taylor swallowed, emotion choking him up. "If all of this has to come out, then I want to explain why I let you think it wasn't me you slept with that night in 1997."

They had forgotten Chris was even there; he reminded them by saying, "You slept with Dave in 1997?!"

Confused, Taylor turned around. "Shiflett?" He saw Chris cuffed down on the couch with the wound on his forehead and his clothes in a disarray. It all came rushing back. Taylor groaned as if he was in pain, gritting his teeth. Suddenly, he started to pant, loudly. "You - you piece of shit... you could've killed Chris, hitting him with that bottle. You threw him down the stairs! You tried to... Chris didn't want it and you were just gonna go ahead and... And what you've done to Dave! You are a monster! Give me my body back!" He struggled to lift his arm, but it hovered in place and shook, not doing whatever Taylor was trying to get it to do. An angry scream built in Taylor's throat as he attempted to overcome the power Nicky had over him.

Chris cried, "You can do it, Taylor! Kick that bastard out!"

"Come on, Taylor, you can do it!" Dave added.

It seemed like Taylor might be doing exactly what Dave and Chris were encouraging him to do, but it became obvious he wasn't by the look of horror that overcame his face as his shaking hand slowly reached behind his back. "No... no, I'm sorry... don't do it... don't!" Taylor's hand came back around, holding the gun.

His eyes going wide, Dave yelled, "No, God, don't you do it!" He watched the barrel of the gun come up, achingly slow, to rest against Taylor's chin. " _Oh God, Nicky, please don't do it!_ "

"Don't do it!" Chris screamed.

Panting, Taylor sat there with the gun aiming up towards his brain and said nothing until his eyes turned blue. "Is this how Kurt did it, huh, Dave? Or was it more like this?" He put the gun in Taylor's mouth.

Dave keened in anguish. "Please, _pleeeease_ don't kill him!"

Nicky took the gun out of his mouth. "You tell Taylor to stop fighting me, then, and I'll let him live for now. You can talk and you can even fuck if you want to, but if he tries to take his body back again, BANG!" he yelled.

"Okay, okay, I'll make sure he understands, just put the gun down, please, please, I'm begging you," Dave pleaded.

Nicky stared him down before placing the gun on the side table. A sigh and his eyes began to change color again, slowly, regularly. Taylor took a moment to realize what had just happened and burst into tears.

He knew how close he'd come to death; Dave didn't have to give out any of Nicky's instructions. Dave shushed him as Taylor collapsed against him and sobbed for several minutes, his head against Dave's chest. "It's okay... you tried... you did so good, Taylor. You'll get it another time. It's okay..."

Eventually, Taylor leaned up, sniffling, looking at Dave's chest. "He cut you," he sobbed, his eyes tracing the word _MINE._

"Don't think about that now," Dave said. If Taylor got angry again...

They both realized that Chris was crying softly on the couch, trying not to be heard. Taylor grabbed a box of tissues from the side table and stood up. "I'll be right back, okay?" he said to Dave, and walked over to sit on the side of the couch.

He helped Chris blow his nose. "Don't cry. You can't blow your own nose right now," Taylor reminded him.

Chris tried to stop. "He almost killed you," he said.

Taking a page from Dave's book of denial, Taylor replied, "Don't think about that now." He touched the wound on Chris's head very carefully. "He could've killed you too."

"My head's harder than that," Chris joked, and they laughed. Taylor caught his eye and nodded; somehow, Chris knew he was saying _Next time, I got this, I'll get my body back._

Taylor looked down the couch and immediately turned his gaze away, embarrassed. "Do you want me to, um, put you back in your pants?"

"No..." Chris had to chuckle. "For some reason, it's less weird if Nicky does it."

"Okay." Taylor wiped Chris's nose one last time before standing up. "I'm gonna go talk to Dave now."

"Okay." As an afterthought, he added, "I'm sorry I have to be here for your private conversation."

Taylor shrugged and said, "It's not like you can help it."

He went back to the chaise lounge and settled in next to Dave. "Where were we?"

"You were going to explain why you didn't tell me it was you that night."

"Right, yeah." While he spoke, Taylor used tissues to clean up Dave's nose and his own. "I could tell you were really messed up that night. Really depressed and vulnerable. I was afraid you were going to get hurt if I didn't look after you. I had heard about your divorce. I never thought in a million years that you even liked, you know, the occasional dude..."

Dave chuckled, a little embarrassed for reasons even he didn't understand.

Taylor continued. "When we got back to your house and you grabbed me and kissed me, I realized that all the stuff you said about looking at your drumsets, 'Do you wanna see my drumsets?', was all a come-on, that I had actually been picked up by Dave Grohl." Shaking his head, he laughed. "It was unexpected, but not unwelcome."

"Yeah, that wasn't my best pick-up line ever."

"I was so slow on the uptake that I didn't even know I had been picked up 'til then." Taylor remembered Dave literally picking him up by his rear end and him wrapping his legs around Dave's waist as they kissed against the wet bar, Dave saying something about his tight little tanned body. Then Taylor's head brushed against the glasses hanging over the bar, making them tinkle musically. He smiled at the memory. Their deep, dirty kisses... "Still, I wasn't as drunk as you."

"I was as drunk as me and... I don't have an ending for that."

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Taylor said, "My point is, I just went with it because I was ah... I was attracted to you. But part of the way through, I realized how it looked, that you might think I was trying to fuck my way into the band. I had also heard about you losing your drummer. I panicked and started trying to hide who I was." Looking down, he laughed lightly. "Nobody ever calls me Oh, not then and as you know, not now."

Dave added to the story by saying, "Two weeks later, we met on the camping trip, and when you first saw me, your eyes went wide. I thought it was about you recognizing me, because apparently, I had a moment of narcissism, but your eyes went wide because you were afraid I'd recognize _you_ as the guy I'd fucked a couple weeks back." Now Dave laughed at a memory. "You actually put your sunglasses on and quickly took them back off; you didn't know what would be best to keep me from realizing who you were. What you didn't know was the memory of your face from that night was a big blonde blur." They both laughed. "I never stopped drinking the whole night."

A memory of himself saying to Dave, _"Let's move this to your bedroom, okay?"_ and Dave responding, _"Okay, race ya!"_ and falling on his face within a few sprinted steps made Taylor chuckle even harder. "Yeah, in hindsight, you were pretty wasted. But I wanted the chance to audition for the Foos so bad. It took me some time to be sure, but once I realized that you didn't know I was Oh, it was easier to just keep my mouth shut. I couldn't risk that you'd kick me out of the band for being an opportunistic whore. I mean, I wasn't, that's not why I slept with you, but that's what you might think." Taylor's eyes pleaded for Dave to believe him. "And I just loved being in the band so much, Dave. I never meant to keep such a big secret. As the years went by, it became easier and easier to just not say anything."

To his relief, Dave nodded and agreed with him. "Now that I hear your side of the story, I can understand it. But Tee, twenty years! It's been twenty years! Were you ever going to tell me?"

Taylor shrugged. "I don't know. If the time seemed right..."

Dave, sighing, didn't know what to say at first. "I guess in a twenty year relationship, there are bound to be some secrets."

"Like the fact that we both like 'the occasional dude'?" Taylor ran his hands up and down Dave's sides, caressing him. "I know it's bizarre for the two of us to be having deep conversations and making out when there's a homicidal ghost possessing my body, but I really want to kiss you right now, Dave. Do you want to...?"

"Tee, I want anything that you want," Dave replied. "I'm just as attracted to you as you are to me."

They weren't admitting to their deeper feelings, Chris noticed. He wasn't going to say a word right now, but Dave had said he was _in love_ with Taylor. They were pretending these feelings, their longing for each other, were primarily physical. This probably wasn't the best time to discuss anything more.

Taylor leaned in. "We can do this over. We can do it all over again," he said, and started with a light kiss.

Dave felt he could cry more, hearing that. He didn't have to settle for a drunken, unsatisfying experience or fucking with a dangerous ghost breathing down their necks. They could do it all over again, and make it as perfect and romantic as they wanted it to be.

But would Taylor want to, when this was all over? Once they reunited with their wives?

Now Taylor was giving him those deep, dirty kisses from their first night together, all tongue and open mouths, and Dave stopped caring about anything else.

Truth be told, Chris had lied when he said it would be less awkward for Nicky to put him back in his pants. He just didn't want to be put back in period, not yet, not until Dave and Taylor were done for the night. Part of him felt guilty for wanting this, but Nicky had worked him up pretty good, and his two bandmates sounded really hot as they kissed and moaned. Chris wouldn't watch them, but he couldn't exactly leave the room, so he instead turned his body on its side and slowly began to rub himself off on the back of the couch. It was so soft and somehow warm... he doubted Dave wanted him to stroke his dick against the cushions, but his hips just wouldn't be still.

After all, couches could be cleaned.

Taylor broke the kiss, and they just breathed against each other's lips, foreheads nearly touching. "I want you inside me, Dave. I want to be with you again. Do you feel up to it?"

For the first time, Dave considered how many sexual encounters he'd had with Nicky and by proxy, Taylor, that day. His body should have been completely worn out by now, but he wanted Taylor so bad, he thought he had one more encounter in him. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Tee."

Smiling, Taylor kissed him one last time before stripping off his shirt and tossing it on the floor. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the blue bottle of lube Nicky had found in Dave's nightstand. "I guess Nicky planned ahead." Standing up, Taylor took off his pants and did it slow so Dave could watch. He wasn't wearing any underwear; Taylor rarely did, and didn't even own many pairs. For a brief moment, Dave wondered how Nicky felt when he discovered that.

All thoughts of Nicky left his head when Taylor pulled down his boxers and sat on his thighs, lubing up one hand and wrapping it around Dave's cock, getting it slick and hard. Dave moaned loudly, arching up into Taylor's hand. "Taylor... Tee... that feels so good..."

Running a finger over the head of Dave's cock, Taylor stroked it down several times; the motions made hot squishing noises that only added to the arousing nature of what they were doing. Chris let out a small, barely audible moan. Dave squirmed like a snake on the chaise lounge, his mouth open in an almost continuous cry of pleasure.

"I can't wait any longer. You are too much," Taylor breathed, and stood up, straddling Dave's crotch. He took hold of the erect cock beneath him and guided it to his entrance, then sat down on it as slow as he could stand. Both mouths hung open in ecstasy as Dave breached him, sliding deliciously up inside Taylor's backside. When he was all the way in, Taylor shuddered and shook, crying out and clutching at Dave's sides. "You're bigger... than the strap-on... Alison fucks me with." His chest heaved with desperate, heavy breaths.

Watching Taylor's hard cock bob around, Dave wondered how close he was to having him cum in his face. "You really like being fucked, Tee?"

"Oh _fuck_ yes. Feels so good." Taylor started to move, to establish an intoxicating rhythm. He almost immediately began to moan so loud and raspy that it was practically a scream. "Oh Dave! Ooh... fuck me, Dave!"

Dave remembered being on the receiving end of sex with another man and how good the prostate stimulation felt. For years, he had denied himself that pleasure, too afraid to ask Jordyn to do to him what Alison had been doing to Taylor, afraid she would feel threatened by the spectre of Kurt and the possible, looming menace of sex with Taylor, and what these two things could do to their marriage. He wondered if Jordyn and Alison had gossiped about her pegging Taylor, and how Alison felt about it. "Does Alison enjoy fucking you, Taylor?"

He nodded, panting. "She _loves_ it," he hissed. "Puts on a tight bustier that pushes up her tits and shows off her nipples... loves to laud her power over me and turn me into a begging mess."

Chris made another soft noise.

Arousal swept like an electrical shock up Dave's back at the pictures that conjured in his head, of Taylor the begging puddle of sweat and Alison the dominatrix, and how he and Jordyn could fit into the middle of such a scene. Why oh why hadn't the two couples explored this side of their friendship before? "What do you think Alison would do to Jordyn if she had her on all fours on the bed? Do you think she'd be into it?"

Taylor seemed to consider it and then gasped, moving faster and thrusting harder. He lowered his head to Dave's chest and just fucked for a bit. "That's so damn hot, so fucking _hot_... I wanna watch my wife fuck your wife..."

"Make her scream." Dave kissed Taylor's head. "I wanna touch you. Fuck, these handcuffs..." He pulled at them in frustration.

"Don't, don't... don't hurt yourself." Taylor ran his hands down Dave's arms until he could lay his palms over the backs of Dave's hands and intertwine their fingers. They stayed like that for several minutes, Taylor lying on top of Dave, while Taylor's movements brought them closer and closer to orgasm.

Eventually, Taylor slowly sat up, caressing Dave's arms as he did. No one was touching his cock, not even him, but it still twitched, obviously engorged with sexual desire. He panted and moaned, moving faster than even before. Dave felt his nails digging into the skin of his sides.

"You gonna cum on me, Tee?" Dave asked, enjoying the dirty talk.

"Yeah... yeah, baby!" Taylor's voice was reaching scream levels. With every thrust, he cried out, getting louder and louder and gasping harder. "Ooh Dave... Dave... uhh... Dave!" Taylor came, spattering Dave's chest with white ropes and pearly drops.

Amazed, Dave went over the edge, cumming inside Taylor. He growled while Taylor gasped and moaned hoarsely; they continued to make those noises for roughly another minute as they calmed down. The volume of these sounds came down as they did.

On the couch, Chris was still moving, breathing heavier and slightly louder in reaction to their orgasms.

"I never touched you. _You_ never touched you," Dave said with a breathless laugh. "Still, you came pretty hard."

"Butt sex is the _best,_ " Taylor declared, and tiredly laid his head on Dave's chest again. When his head came back up, his eyes were stark blue... and angry.

Dave frowned at that look. "Hey Nicky. You okay?"

Nicky did not move off of Dave, kept him inside the body he was possessing, as he started to lick up all of Taylor's cum. He looked up at Dave with those hurt, angry eyes the whole time. At the end, Nicky sucked on Dave's nipple and then bathed the wound, the word _MINE_ , with his tongue. It didn't hurt even though Nicky licked hard enough for it to; Dave realized the Vicodin must still be working.

When he felt finished, Nicky asked, "Did you enjoy that? Did you enjoy fucking him?"

Absently, Dave nodded. A sense of foreboding squeezed at his heart; Nicky was mad for some reason and he wasn't sure he'd be able to talk his way out of it. "I enjoyed having sex with you both."

"So you didn't even notice that I wasn't really there for the whole thing?"

Shit. Had Taylor's eyes stayed brown for most of the sexual encounter? Dave thought they probably had, but he was too distracted to make note of what that meant.

Nicky put on an evil, satisfied grin. "Taylor is my sweet little slumbering puppet. He'll never get control of his body back. So I let him feel most of what it was like to fuck you while I sat back and watched. You've been playing me, Grohl. You could never love me. You're too in love with Taylor."

Dave's heart began to hammer in his chest. "That's not true, Nicky. Yes, I love Taylor, but... we shared a special moment in my bedroom this morning. You and me."

"You and me... and Taylor." Nicky sighed, looking down. "But you know what? I don't care. I know what I have to do to have you all to myself now. You will be mine and mine alone to touch... and fuck... and _hurt_ if I see fit." With that, he stood up and headed for the couch.

"Nicky, what are you doing?"

Chris had been listening, and his face already showed fear before Nicky took him by the hip and turned him over on his back. Without another word, he took Chris's cock in his mouth and aggressively began to suck him off.

Chris couldn't hold it in; he moaned and then cried, "No! You said you wouldn't if Dave took over!"

Dave snarled, "You fucking liar! You said you would leave Chris alone if I fucked you instead!"

Nicky stopped long enough to address what they'd both said. "But you didn't fuck me, Dave. You fucked Taylor." Then he went back to finishing Chris off.

Dave screamed, kicking his legs. "Whose fault was that? I didn't tell you to pull back and just watch!" Nicky ignored him. Chris started to squirm. "Nicky, goddamnit!"

Chris tried to use his legs as Dave had to push Nicky off the couch. Without missing a stroke, Nicky shifted his body so he was fully sitting on Chris's calves and pinned his hips down with his hands. He sucked at him even more aggressively, taking Chris into his throat.

Chris howled, losing his breath halfway through, and seemed to give in, lying still at last.

Dave screamed angrily, kicking his legs again. "You bastard! You want me to love you, this is not the way!"

Nicky did not answer him this time. He finished Chris off, blowing him until he came in his mouth. With a feral grin, he put Chris back in his pants and zipped him up.

Dave watched as Nicky picked up Taylor's clothes and began to put them back on. "I get that you need time, Dave," he said. He looked back at Chris, who was being very quiet, but was shaking all over. "But my patience is wearing thin. I also need time. Time to figure out how to accomplish what needs to happen here so I can be happy. So you and me can be happy, together."

"I don't know how I can ever be happy with you when you deliberately hurt my friends," Dave pointed out.

Nicky shrugged. "Then maybe you need to be separated from your friends," he said, and went up the stairs.

Dave was too shocked to respond. What did he mean by that? Would Nicky take him away? Would he...?

With Nicky finally gone, Chris burst into tears.

 

_**Notes:** I know some of you are slash purists and don't really like the fact that Dave and Taylor mentioned stuff they'd like to do to their wives during sex, but I'm writing this from the perspective that these guys are bisexual, and I'm a big fan of mixed-gender threesomes and moresomes. So nyah. ;)_


	12. A Matter of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The murder weapon was in the master bathroom," one of the plainclothes cops said to another. He held up a butcher knife in a plastic bag.

Dave wasn't sure what to say to make Chris feel better; he just kept sobbing quietly and pulling on the handcuffs. "Chris, it wasn't your fault. Try to stop crying, okay?"

"I feel like I just cheated on my wife," Chris said. He kept attempting to pull his arm down to wipe his nose and failing.

"That's how he wants you to feel," Dave said. "Don't give Nicky the satisfaction. Besides, you're all chained up, and he held you down. How could you be at fault?"

Sniffling, Chris admitted, "But I let myself get all hot and bothered from listening to you guys have sex. I wanted to get off, just not that way."

Dave shook his head. "It's not like you could get up and leave the room. Look, Chris, it's okay. We're in an extreme situation here. I understand, and I'm sure Cara will too."

"God, how am I going to explain any of this to her?" Chris fell silent for a minute, thinking. "You know, when Taylor was talking about Alison in the bustier, I was totally picturing Cara. It was a pretty sexy image."

Chuckling, Dave replied, "All the more reason to get out of this alive. I for one can't wait to experiment with Jordyn." It made him feel a little better, to make plans for his romantic future, sans Nicky.

Chris paused for a long time before speaking again. "Are we, Dave? Are we getting out of this alive?"

Dave also had to pause, thinking of all the horrible possibilities of what Nicky could be plotting now. "You saw what happened. Taylor was fighting for control of his body. It's only a matter of time until he wakes up."

"But all those scary things Nicky said... he sounded like he was about ready to... to start getting all your friends out of the way."

Sighing, Dave said, "I know. But I have faith in Taylor."

A hint of a smile ghosted across Chris's face. "You should, you know. While Nicky was over here molesting me, his eyes stayed blue the whole time. Every time. Taylor doesn't want me. I'm not sure Taylor ever wanted me. I think it's always been about you, and I was a convenient substitute."

"Chris, Nicky was forcing you into it. Taylor wouldn't be a part of that if he had a choice."

"Still, you just made love to him. Do you really question how he feels about you after that?"

Sighing, Dave said, "I don't want to assume anything until I can talk to Taylor without that asshole looking over his shoulder."

Chris looked up at the ceiling. After a short time, he yawned. "I'm exhausted. Are you tired, Dave?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted too."

"Do you think it's safe to sleep? What if Nicky comes down here while we're sleeping?"

Dave started to say nothing had happened to him while he was sleeping, but it would be a lie, because not only had he been handcuffed down and molested while in a deep sleep, he had been carved into as well. "It wouldn't be that different from what he does to us when we're awake," he finally said.

Chris had to laugh, a little bitterly. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Hey, I gave it a shot," Dave said with a shrug.

They both had a good chuckle.

Within five minutes, they were asleep.

Dave became aware of the voices of children, calling to each other. He made his way through a thicket of trees at night, a forest he recognized from his childhood. As he came closer to where the kids were, the forest stopped, giving way to a sunny, grassy clearing covered in tiny wildflowers. Dave looked up at the sky. In the span of an inch, night gave way to day, as his memory bumped up against someone else's. It was surreal.

Here were the children. Four of them, grouped together in the clearing. Dave recognized little Nicky and his friend with the dark hair, and two other kids with light blonde hair. These kids were probably his siblings, or childhood friends. They each wore some piece of a pirate costume and carried a plastic sword.

Nicky, wearing a black pirate hat and an eyepatch, raised his sword. "Arrrr, me hearties! Are ye ready to storm the enemy's ship?"

"Arrrr, we be ready!" the blonde boy said.

"Are ye ready to steal the treasure?"

"Arrrrr!" the other kids cried together.

"Are ye ready to grab the booty?"

The two boys called, "Arrrr!" but the little girl giggled loudly. "You said grab the booty!" she said, a hand covering her mouth.

All the kids laughed.

"Are ye ready to mizzen the masts? Swash the buckles? Batten down the hatches?"

The children said, "Arrrr!" through their laughter.

"Then, members of the pirate gang with last names that are also girl's first names, follow me!"

The kids ran off, swords raised. A brown dog chased them through the field, barking.

"Come on, Fudgie!" one of the kids called.

Dave passed the scene. Between each memory, he could see the white light that formed the mindscape, the sort of lobby area where all their minds met. Next, he came upon an older gray-haired lady in a rocking chair with a children's book in her hands and a young, towheaded boy in her lap. The child couldn't have been more than four; he was sucking his thumb. She read some of the story to him, rocking them both gently. "My little Taylor... little Oll-eeeee..." she sing-songed, kissing him on the temple.

It was a memory that could have made Dave cry if he'd let it. Taylor with his beloved grandmother.

And here was the bed with Taylor in it, sleeping on his side with his thumb in his mouth, knees pulled up close to his chest. Dave sighed with relief to see him sleep so peacefully. It meant he wasn't trapped in Nicky's nightmare world. He was most likely experiencing the memory of his grandmother that Dave had just seen.

Strangely, Dave could swear he now heard the tinkling notes of "Pop Goes the Weasel" approaching. As he turned, an ice cream truck drove slowly past him with a bunch of children following it, crying, "Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!" Chris, as an adult, was among them.

"Ice cream, ice - hey Dave!" he said. "This ice cream truck used to come by my house all through the summer while I was growing up."

"Yeah, I just came out of the forest near my childhood home in Virginia back there. We should probably get in bed with Taylor, just to be safe."

On their way there, Dave heard Kurt yelling somewhere nearby. He urged Chris to keep going and headed toward where the voice was coming from.

Close by, Dave found adult Nicky, dressed in dark blue scrubs, playing cards with an old lady in a hospital bed. "Are you sure this is how you want to spend your Saturday night?"

"You say that because I'm winning. Go fish."

The lady chuckled. "You're a good boy, Nicholas."

Dave was torn away from the scene by Kurt running in, yelling something about things not being fair. "Nicky has too much control. How am I supposed to save them?"

When he saw Kurt was being followed by the demon, Len, Dave ducked behind the hospital bed, peeking through the frame at them to see what was going on.

"Cobain, have you completely lost your mind? Why is this something I'm supposed to care about?" Len asked.

"You only care about yourself, you big meanie!" Kurt ran at Len and began shoving him, grabbing at his coat and shaking him. "If he threatens anyone's life again, I will hold you personally responsible!"

Annoyed, Len pushed Kurt as hard as he could, knocking him down. "I think you've flipped your lid, Cobain. Don't touch me like that again." He straightened his coat and walked away.

Once he was well out of earshot, Kurt began to laugh to himself.

Dave came out from behind the bed and went to help Kurt up. "What was all that about?" He noticed Kurt still wore the collar but had been unhooked from the chain, probably for ease of movement through the mindscape.

"Dave! Get to the white bed, okay? I'll explain on the way."

They made their way to the big bed where Taylor was sleeping. "You see all these memories lying around?" Kurt asked.

"I had noticed them, yeah."

"I've been looking for some we can use against Nicky Kelly. The only problem is, the doors aren't labeled and they're all mixed up in here. I kinda just have to slog through them 'til I find something useful. However, two helpful things just happened. I found one of the memories I was looking for, and..." Kurt held up a set of keys on a ring and shook them, making them jingle.

"What're those?"

"I just lifted them off Len. They're keys to memories Nicky doesn't want anyone to have access to." After hiding the keys in his jeans pocket, Kurt urged Dave to get in the bed next to Taylor, who had stopped sucking his thumb and was now grinning and giggling in his sleep. "I have a plan." He looked at Chris and Dave, who were both still awake.

"Yeah, go Kurt!" Dave said when he realized why Kurt had shoved Len around and grabbed his coat. "What's your plan?"

When he was done, both Dave and Chris nodded to each other. "It's worth a shot."

"You'll know it's happening because... uh..."

Kurt stopped as the memory of Alison in the bustier came walking up to the end of the bed. Instead of panties, she wore a strap-on dildo, a blue, sparkly, transparent dildo covered in silicone veins. Alison whacked her hand with a fuzzy, firm paddle lined with stuffed fabric. "Taylor Hawkins, you've been a bad boy. Turn over."

In the bed, Taylor giggled and smiled. "Yes, mistress," he said in his sleep.

Kurt put a hand over his mouth and chortled loudly. "Seriously, Dave, you have got some kinkyass friends, I hope you know."

*****

There were strangers in his house. Men in suits with police badges strapped to their belts. Officers in uniform. One was taking pictures.

"The murder weapon was in the master bathroom," one of the plainclothes cops said to another. He held up a butcher knife in a plastic bag. The inside of the bag was smeared with blood, as was the knife.

"I knew it would be a knife like that, from these stab wounds." The cop pointed out the multiple marks littering Chris's chest. A chest that did not rise and fall with his breath. Blood had run from many of those wounds and stained the side of the couch. Everything around the couch was splattered with Chris's blood, from the wall to the statue to the Mondrian hung above it.

"No! Noooooo!" Dave screamed. He attempted to lift his arms, but they were still handcuffed down. "Uncuff me! Get me out of here, please!"

"Give me the sequence of events as you see them."

The homicide detective who seemed to be in charge walked the room as he ran through what he thought had happened. "Hawkins somehow got the jump on these two and cuffed them up, or maybe it was supposed to be some kind of sex game. I mean, they're both half dressed." He pointed at Dave. "This one's in his underwear. And that word carved into his chest, and the one carved into Hawkins' arm... kinky."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Dave yelled. "Why won't you uncuff me?"

The detective continued, "For reasons we may never know, Hawkins came down here with the knife and stabbed this guy to death, ahh..." He looked at a sheet of paper in his hand. "...Chris Shiflett."

Dave began to cry. "Noooo, Chris, noooo!"

"Have all their families been notified?"

"They're on a flight back from Hawaii right now."

"So what happened next?"

The lead detective stood near the end of the chaise lounge and sighed, looking at Dave. "This one was the biggest star of the group. David Grohl. Dave. Do you remember Nirvana?"

"Barely. I wasn't a fan."

"He was the drummer. This band was his second chance at stardom, and as you can see by the sheer size and location of this house, it worked out for him." The man clucked his tongue. "Damn shame. Hawkins came to him next, slit his throat, and went back to the master bedroom to shoot himself in the head."

Dave, devastated, tried to convince them they were wrong. "I'm not dead!" he tried to say, but the words got choked up and hung in his throat. He looked down to see his chest covered in his own blood.

Someone had turned on the television over the fireplace. "TMZ" was on with a live update. Harvey and Charles were delivering the details of what had happened here. "Breaking news, police are currently on scene at the home of Dave Grohl, the lead singer and guitarist of the rock band the Foo Fighters. You may remember that Dave was the drummer for the ultimate grunge band of the '90s, Nirvana. What we're hearing is that three members of the band were found dead in Dave Grohl's home in what looks like a murder/suicide, and Dave was one of the ones killed."

"A source close to the police force says it's an absolute blood bath."

Dave woke up, gasping.


	13. The Deepest Blues Are Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I suppose I am 'a little' bi too. I mean, I'd have to be, with the things I'd like to do to you right now."
> 
> Eyes widening, Dave wondered, "What do you wanna do to me?"
> 
> "Whatever you'll let me," Kurt whispered.

Nicky sat near the couch, alternating between feeding himself and feeding a very hungry Chris. They had the TV on, tuned to "TMZ." Harvey and Charles were talking about Kylie Jenner.

Looking at him, Nicky licked chilli off his spoon. "You okay?"

Dave took a few seconds to catch his breath. "I had a nightmare."

"Oh. You hungry?"

Oogly wound around Nicky's ankles, purring, and then stopped to lick her paw. She had obviously been fed. Dave wasn't sure he wanted to eat after that horrible nightmare, but his stomach betrayed him, growling. "I could eat."

"Okay. By the way, who the hell are the Kardashians?"

Once he was done feeding Chris, Nicky warmed up some chilli for Dave too, even bringing him a beer. "Are you still mad at me?" Dave asked.

"Not really. You can't help how you feel." He gave him a swig of beer. "You just showed me what I have to do, that's all."

A feeling of dread coated Dave's heart with ice. "What do you have to do?"

Nicky grinned mischievously to himself. He fed Dave another spoonful of chilli. "You'll see," he said ominously, and got a fresh spoonful.

"Nicky, whatever you're thinking of doing - "

His hand stopped midway to Dave's mouth. Nicky quit moving altogether, frozen in place, the spoon hanging from his fingers as his eyes glazed over.

"Nicky?" Dave said.

Nicky did not move.

He called quietly, "Chris."

Chris took his eyes off the TV, looking at him.

"It's time," Dave declared, and closed his eyes.

_Concentrate on your breathing. Think about how it works. In through the nose... down the throat... into the bronchial tubes... filling the lungs..._

_Goddamnit, just get in here,_ Kurt's voice said in his head.

Dave felt himself rushing down a tunnel into the mindscape; it was a little nauseating, like a sudden onslaught of vertigo. Although Kurt had told him how this was going to work, he still found himself surprised and a little disturbed by the scene before him. Kurt had located the memory of the first time something sexual had happened between himself and Kurt. It sat there, roughly twenty feet from the bed where Taylor lay asleep, a fingertip in his mouth.

Apprehension made Dave's heart feel like it was being squeezed for a moment when he saw that the end of the bed was almost covered with bloody red handprints. They were trying harder and harder to get to Taylor.

Standing before the memory was Kurt, still off Boddah's chain, and sitting on the floor was Nicky, the real Nicky, watching the memory, hypnotized. Dave didn't want to interact with the ghost in his real form, didn't want to talk to him, but he had to so this whole plan would seem innocent. Munchie the cat purred loudly, rubbing against Nicky's knees; he petted his cat absently while watching the memory play out.

"Kurt?" Dave said, pretending this was the first time he'd seen Kurt in a really long time.

"Dave!" Kurt cried, and they hugged like long lost friends reunited.

Eyes wide, Nicky turned around. "Dave, it's Kurt. Kurt's here." His voice quavered with nervous admiration, like Kurt could walk on water. Apparently, there was someone Nicky admired more than Dave.

"Yeah, I see that. It's great to see you, Kurt." Considering the memory before them, Dave asked, "What are you guys doing?"

"Kurt said I could watch the first time you two made love," Nicky replied. His eyes glimmered with excitement.

Laying it on thick, Kurt crouched down and rubbed Nicky's back as they watched.

Dave was only supposed to stay for a short time, just long enough to make sure Nicky was well enthralled with the scene. He remembered every second of this, and couldn't stop looking either.

It was a story he'd recounted more than once in the press, about how Kurt had reacted the first time he heard the demo of "Alone + Easy Target." The main difference from the story the public heard to the actual tale was he left out what happened after the kiss.

"Dave! Where are you?" Kurt called in the memory.

"I'm in the bathtub!" young Dave called back. The water in the tub was clouded with soap and Dave's hair was slicked back from a fresh washing; he was almost ready to get out.

Kurt burst excitedly through the door. Dave jumped in surprise hard enough to slosh a little water over the side of the tub. "Dude, do you mind?"

Nicky giggled, absently stroking Munchie's tail.

Kneeling beside the tub, Kurt seemed to imitate that motion, putting a hand on the back of Dave's head and stroking his wet hair. "That song you demoed, it's so good! I can really make something out of it! I'm so glad you shared it with me." Kurt grabbed Dave's face in both his hands and kissed him on the lips in a rather comical, exaggerated way, crying, "Mmmmwaaaa!"

Dave laughed, a little embarrassed. After all, he was naked in the bathtub. "I'm really glad you like it, Kurt."

The way Kurt was looking at him... a mischievous little grin on his face, his eyes shining... "It really is a great song," he said, and kissed him again. Only this time, the kiss was quite passionate.

A bit shocked, Dave raised his hands out of the water, reacting on impulse, about to cup Kurt's face in his hands, but then realized that not only were his hands wet, but it was Kurt who was kissing him. His hands just hung there, dripping, until Kurt broke the kiss. "Kurt, what are you doing?" he asked quietly.

Older Dave saw that Nicky was shaking a little. Truth be told, he was shaking a little himself, watching, and remembering. Remembering what it was like to be kissed by someone he admired, whom he was attracted to, someone who was growing into one of the most well thought of songwriters of the 1990s.

"Coming onto you," Kurt whispered, and kissed Dave again.

Dave pulled away. "Why?"

Both Kurt in the memory and Kurt's ghost in the mindscape chuckled in reaction. "Why?" Kurt mimicked, and looked at older Dave.

Dave grinned back at him. "We were so young," he said, and reached out to stroke Kurt's arm, feeling a little melancholy.

Kurt put a hand over his.

In the memory, Kurt responded, "Because you're cute and talented and I really wanna mess around with you."

"You think I'm talented?" Dave asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Kurt said, as if it was a silly question. "So do you want to?"

"Are you bisexual?"

"Are you?"

"I guess... a little," Dave replied.

"A little," Kurt repeated, slightly mocking him. Dave's face colored, and he looked down. "I suppose I am 'a little' bi too. I mean, I'd have to be, with the things I'd like to do to you right now."

Eyes widening, Dave wondered, "What do you wanna do to me?"

"Whatever you'll let me," Kurt whispered. He kissed Dave again.

Dave did not pull away this time.

"This is really hot," Nicky remarked. He looked at Kurt, then Dave, as if he hoped something would happen between the three of them.

The look suddenly put a very dirty idea in the head of the older version of Dave, and he wished Taylor was awake to meet Kurt... that they could all get in that big white bed together and meet each other _real good._ Even in the middle of all this, he was still a man.

After half a minute of kissing, Dave no longer cared if he got Kurt a little wet; his hands were now dampening Kurt's hair as he ran them through it. When he could take a breath, Dave asked, "What about Courtney?"

Kurt told him, "We got an open thing. I can have all the guys I want, just not other women."

"Oh," Dave said, then made a surprised noise when Kurt reached between his legs and aggressively inserted a finger into his backside. He began to shake as Kurt stroked and caressed his prostate.

"Anybody ever touched that before?"

Dave shook his head, undulating his midsection a bit in reaction to the sudden pleasure moving up his spine.

"Lay back, lay back," Kurt said, lightly pushing on Dave's shoulder.

Dave laid back in the tub, just feeling and enjoying what Kurt was doing to him. He started to pant and moaned softly. "Kurt... that's pretty nice."

Nodding, Kurt said, "It feels even better when it's a big ol' dick inside you, rubbing against that."

Dave eyed him suspiciously. "You want to fuck me, don't you?"

Kurt nodded again. "Real bad, Dave. Right here in the tub." Still working between the other man's legs, Kurt stroked his hair with his free hand. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over Dave's. "Will you let me?"

Dave visibly shook at the thought. He kissed the offered lips before grabbing Kurt's shirt, like he might just yank him in the tub, clothes and all. "Yeah. Yeah, Kurt. I want you to fuck me. Give it to me."

Grinning, Kurt took his finger out and began to remove his clothing. First the long-sleeve overshirt, then the T-shirt, the shoes and socks, and finally the jeans and underwear. Dave watched him, touching his own cock while he did, playing with himself. Naked now, Kurt got into the tub, lying back against the opposite side. "This could be a little warmer," he commented, turning on the water to hot to freshen its temperature a bit. Then he motioned for Dave to come closer.

Within seconds, Dave was in Kurt's lap and wrapping his legs around his waist. They rubbed against each other, kissing, stroking, groping, two of Kurt's fingers going up inside Dave again. Dave gasped, moaning at how good it all felt. "Mmm, Kurt," he growled, and humped at his cock, baring down on the searching fingers.

Kurt stood up and went to older Dave, pulling him close and kissing him on the mouth. Dave gratefully kissed back. He'd hoped Kurt would do this; the memory was affecting him in that way, and he couldn't say goodbye without another kiss. If their plan worked the way it was supposed to, this would all be over soon.

They held each other for a moment, breathing hard into each other's faces. "You should go," Kurt said at a whisper.

"I don't want to," Dave confessed.

Nicky turned around, watching them, starting to pant too.

In the memory, Dave cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure when Kurt entered him. His mouth hung open as Kurt began to fuck. Both pairs of Kurts and Daves kissed once more. Nicky couldn't decide which pairing to watch.

Kurt pushed away from the older version of Dave, a tentative hand on his chest. "Not now," Kurt declared, continuing to whisper.

Dave smiled at the promise Kurt seemed to be making. There was a way they could make love again, here, once this was -

A crash sounded from the sky. Everyone but the Kurt and Dave in the memory looked up.

Dave opened his eyes. Before him, Nicky came to in Taylor's body, blinking and looking around, perplexed. His hand jerked and the spoon shook, a dollop of chilli falling on Dave's chest. They both looked over to the place where the booming crash had come from.

Chris looked up guiltily from where he was sitting on the floor, one foot stuck in the wall of the art room. His hands were, unfortunately, still shackled around the bar, although the reason why he was off the couch was because he'd been trying to pull so hard on the handcuff chain that it would break, using the bar as a fulcrum. In an effort to give his backward motion more power, Chris had braced his foot against the wall and tried to use his weight to break the chain, but that action had backfired, as the wall had given way. Now frozen with fear, caught, he looked helplessly from Dave to Nicky, his eyes crying, _"Save me!"_

Instantly furious, Nicky threw down the spoon and bowl and whipped out the gun, pointing it at Chris. "What the hell are you doing?!" he yelled.

"Uhhmm, uhhh..." Chris glanced from one man to the other, frantic for an answer, any answer. "...nothing," he finally said.

Dave cringed. They had been caught. The plan had failed.

"Nothing, shit!" Nicky hollered. "Get back on that couch! NOW!"

Chris did as he was told, yanking his foot out of the wall.

"Do I have to tie your legs down?! Is that it?!"

"No! No, I promise, I won't do it again!"

"Like I'm going to trust you now?!" His face turning red with anger, Nicky kept the gun trained on Chris, his hand shaking.

Dave, afraid his friend was about to be shot, tried to talk Nicky down. "Nicky, we're sorry. It's just really uncomfortable to be chained down like this, and we wanted some - "

Nicky turned the gun on Dave. "SHUT UP, GODDAMN YOU, SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!"

Dave also did as he was told, knowing better than to challenge a hostile psychopath.

For a moment, Nicky glared at him, anger burning in his eyes. Then he turned and headed for the stairs, yelling at Chris on his way out, "Don't you move!"

"I won't!" Chris said. When Nicky reached the kitchen, he whimpered, frightened and full of regret. "I'm sorry, Dave. I didn't mean to screw everything up."

"I know you didn't mean to."

"But we had him. He was totally mesmerized and under your power, and I ruined it all by - " Chris abruptly ceased talking when he heard Nicky coming back.

He had the yellow rope in his hands. Without a word, Nicky used it to tie Chris's legs down to the couch, winding it around his calves and ankles, the couch's legs, and the couch as a whole until Chris could hardly move them. Chris grunted and whined to himself as it was done; obviously, it was uncomfortable.

Once he felt he was finished, Nicky stared at Dave with hurt in his eyes for so long that Dave had to look away. "You betrayed me," Nicky accused. Tears began to run from his blue eyes. "You and Kurt, all of you... you betrayed me." With that, he left them to their thoughts, disappearing up the stairs.

"Oh shit, shit, shit..." Chris said to himself. "He's gonna kill us. He's going to come down here and fuckin' shoot us both."

Dave thought of his dream. "No, I think he's much more likely to stab you to death and slit my throat."

Turning crystal blue eyes filled with horror on him, Chris cried, "Don't say things like that! How can you say that?!"

Dave laughed almost hysterically. "You had to go put your damn foot through the wall."

"I didn't do it on purpose! And anyway, I told you guys we needed to wait until Nicky left the house before we tried this."

"Oh, like that would have helped. He still would have found the hole in the wall when he came home. Or do you think we could have hidden it behind a painting?" Using an exaggerated, sarcastic voice, Dave said, "Yeah, Nicky, that Magritte has always been hung down by the floor. Didn't you notice?"

Chris burst into tears. "Don't make this all my fault!" He took a deep breath and wailed, panicking. "I don't wanna die! I want to see my wife and kids again. My baaabiiies..."

Dave choked back tears, inwardly kicking himself for getting his friend so upset. "I'm sorry, Chris. It's no one's fault. We gave it a shot, and it didn't work out." Laying his head back, he tried to think of what they were going to do, what came next in this life or death situation.

Somehow, he had to figure it out. Their only chance was to wake up Taylor.

******

Nicky did not come back. Hours passed.

Dave didn't know how he managed to fall asleep, but he must have, because he was back in the mindscape, near the end of the snow white bed. Although, it wasn't so white now.

It terrified him to see how many bloody handprints covered the edges of the fitted sheet. In some places, there were so many of them, they ran together in big blobs, unrecognizable as hands. The handprints not only littered the bottom edge now but also the sides of the bed; the demons wanted to get at Taylor so desperately, they were testing the boundaries with greater enthusiasm and more frequency.

In the middle of the bed, Taylor tossed and turned in his sleep. "Dave... Chris... he's gonna hurt you. Get out. Run!" Groaning, he turned over again, getting himself more tangled in the sheet.

A booming voice startled Dave and he jumped, realizing the voice was Nicky's. "Creatures of the Beyond, you have served me well. I have a reward for you. A slumbering prize. In the safety of a celestial bed sleeps the soul of a talented human male named Taylor Hawkins. Some of you may have tasted him before, as he once listened to you and lost himself in a drug problem. That's something he seems to have left behind. His soul has grown and flourished, and he can now call himself a drummer, singer, songwriter, and poetic lyricist, as well as a father. All of these things, as you know, make for an especially full and tasty soul."

Dave could hear other voices reacting favorably as Nicky ticked off Taylor's accomplishments, some of them sounding more like roars and growls than people who spoke actual words. But they weren't people Nicky was talking to, were they? They were demons.

He went on, saying, "The bed is protected by the light of Heaven, but if you all storm it at the same time, only a few of you will be burned, and the bed will collapse, spilling the prize within. Then you can feast on the handsome, caramel-flavored soul cradled by Heaven itself!"

The demons roared and cheered.

"If you do this thing for me, I promise we will hunt down the soul of another hiding here, the famous Kurt Cobain!"

They really cheered then; Dave could hear their feet (or were they hooves?) pounding on the ground. God, they were close. Already panting with terror, Dave crawled onto the bed and made sure Taylor's arms were inside the bundle he began to make, crossing them over his chest. Then he wrapped Taylor in the sheet like a burrito.

"Kurt has an especially bright soul, just full of talent! A little known fact, Kurt has the ability to communicate with his reaper, a talent he's had since he was a child. Such a psychic power helps make for an especially delicious soul, as you well know."

The demons agreed, cheering and growling uproariously.

Dave took the Taylor burrito into his arms and picked him up off the bed. Making a contented noise, Taylor cuddled up to him and said, "Dave, you're so warm."

Dave took a moment to kiss Taylor's lips before turning and running with him, not even knowing where he was going. "Kurt!" he called, trying to keep his voice down so the demons wouldn't hear him. "Kurt, where are you?"

"My Creatures of the Beyond, these things I offer to you for how well you've served me! Now go, and claim your first prize!" Nicky bellowed.

The sound of their running feet and boisterous cries became thunderous; as Dave ran, he could hear them approaching. The crash as they trampled and tore the bed apart hurt Dave's ears. He found himself in a hallway with different-colored doors on either side. Running this hall with Taylor cradled to his chest, he continued to call for Kurt, hoping he would know a good place to hide the soul the demons were after.

As the demons realized the bed was empty, they screamed in anger, tearing the bed to shreds. "Where is it, where is the soul you promised us?!"

Nicky gasped. Then he howled like an animal, as if in death, his soul had become completely twisted and inhuman. "DAAAAAVE!" he screamed. "WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HIM?!"

Dave kept running, breathing hard and grunting with the effort of the escape. His legs felt like they might give out any second. "Kuuurt!" he shrieked.

Suddenly, one of the doors came open, one that was a beautiful shade of blue, and Kurt poked his head out. "Dave! Here!" he called.

Letting out a grateful but exhausted groan, Dave ran in the door and shut it behind him. All sounds of the angry demons were silenced by that door. In here, there was only the memory hidden there, and Kurt.

"Kurt, thank God!" Dave held Taylor out, finally understanding what Nicky meant when he said he knew now what he had to do to be happy. "Taylor's in danger. Nicky's trying to kill him!" Dave's face crumpled in anguish. "He's trying to kill his soul!"

 

_**Notes:** I'm pretty sure in the real story of "Alone + Easy Target," Kurt was the one in the bathtub, but somehow it felt more right this way._

_Why is Taylor's soul caramel-flavored? Because when I look at him, that's what I think you would taste if you could psychically touch his soul. Still weird? Sorry, I have some strange spiritual beliefs. ;)_


	14. No Way Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicky grinned, evil and vindictive. "You know what I want to do, Dave? I want to kill Chris and take you away. Take you someplace no one will ever find you."

Warnings: This chapter has a character in it afflicted with Alzheimer's and descriptions of childhood sexual abuse. If you have personal trigger issues with these things, you may want to tread lightly. There are also parts where Nicky treats Dave very roughly and makes threats of rape and violence. There is also a homophobic slur.

 

Kurt put a steadying hand on Dave's arm. "Dave, it's okay. We're safe. No one knows that I stole Len's keys. They won't look for us in here."

Still panting with fear and effort, Dave took the time to look around. They were in a bedroom that seemed to have been decorated by an older woman, with pastel-colored bedsheets and afghans over the furniture, and family pictures on the bedside table and windowsill. The grandmotherly woman sat near the bed in a wheelchair, a quilt over her lap and glasses low on her nose as she squinted at the TV guide from the newspaper. A bowl of steamy hot soup sat on a TV tray beside her wheelchair.

With a hairbrush in his hand, Nicky walked out of the attached bathroom.

Dave winced and gasped, holding Taylor tightly to him.

Kurt put up a hand, trying to calm him. "It's just a memory. They aren't aware that we're here. This happened long ago for Nicky; we weren't there when it happened, right?"

Unconvinced, Dave could not take his eyes off Nicky. He was near tears. "He wants to steal Taylor's body. He's trying to kill him."

Nicky began to brush his grandmother's hair, gently and slowly. "Do you want a bun or a ponytail today, Grandma?"

"Umm... ponytail is fine, dear."

Kurt pointed at them. "See? They have no idea we're here. Watch." Standing up, he shook his butt in the grandmother's face. "Woohoo, Grandma, kiss my ass. Kiss it."

Neither Grandma nor Nicky reacted. It was like he wasn't there.

Dave couldn't help but giggle.

"See? It's a memory. It already happened." Kurt put his arms under Taylor. Dave recoiled; he wasn't ready to hand his precious cargo over to anyone yet. "I'm not trying to take him, only to support you both. You're upset, okay? Let's put Taylor on the bed together."

"The grandmother's bed?"

"Yes. No one will ever know he's there. I promise." He nodded toward Nicky. "This memory loops at the end of their conversation. I've watched it several times. No one ever goes near the bed." When Dave was still reluctant to move, Kurt added, "Boddah and I will look after Taylor. We won't let Nicky get him."

Looking around the room, Dave noticed Boddah for the first time. The reaper stood in a corner near the bed, hood covering his face, barely moving and not saying a word. As creepy as the bird-thing was, Dave trusted him to protect them. He stood and let Kurt help him put Taylor on the grandmother's bed. Taylor immediately rolled over on his side and cuddled into the pillow.

Done with Grandma's hair, Nicky sat in a chair near her and started to crush oyster crackers into her soup.

"What kind have we got today?" Grandma asked.

"Chicken and Rice," Nicky replied.

"Mmm!" Grandma exclaimed, and rubbed her tummy. "I love soup!"

"I know you do." Nicky grinned.

"Leave me some whole ones," she said, indicating the crackers.

"Okay." Nicky threw a few complete oyster crackers into the bowl. "What's good on TV tonight?"

"Hmm." Grandma considered the book quietly.

Exhausted, Dave flopped down on the floor. "Kurt, I don't know what to do. How do I protect Taylor? We can't hide forever."

Kurt swallowed hard. He knew Dave wasn't going to like what he had to say. "You have to wake Taylor up."

"Me? How do I do that? I've already tried."

"There's something you have to say to him."

"What?" Dave asked.

Kurt swallowed again. He looked worried, stricken. "I can't tell you."

"Huh? What do you mean, you can't tell me?"

Sighing, Kurt rolled his eyes in frustration. "I'm not allowed to influence events that much. I've already done more than I should have. You have to figure it out for yourself. You have to break the spell, Dave."

Dave looked at Taylor, then at Kurt. "Please, if you don't tell me, Taylor may die."

There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Dave... if you don't figure this out... you'll _all_ die," Kurt said.

Silent for a moment, Dave considered this, pushing his hair behind his ears and holding it there for a few seconds. "It's my nightmare, isn't it?" He lowered his hands. "If I can't wake Taylor up, it will come true. Nicky will kill me and Chris and then shoot Taylor in the head. No one will ever know the ghost was here. My family, Taylor's, everyone will think Taylor murdered his friends and then committed suicide. Our families will be destroyed."

Kurt nodded, tears standing in his eyes. "You can figure it out, Dave. I know you can."

His brow furrowed in a troubled expression, Taylor suddenly murmured, "Dave, he's got a knife."

Dave sighed, hearing that. What must it be like to be trapped in your own body, where you're not currently in control, helpless to do anything but watch what the controlling entity does with it? Taylor was having nightmares about what was about to happen to them all, what _could_ happen, and couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. No, that responsibility had been left up to Dave. "Kurt, please tell me. Our lives depend on it."

Shaking his head, Kurt sat on the end of the bed and leaned his elbows on his knees, starting to curl in on himself. "It's not allowed. Please, if I could tell you, I would." He put his face in his hands.

Dave got on his knees in front of Kurt and touched his hands, trying to coax him out of his need to put up a wall, a cocoon. "Kurt, I don't want to die."

"Do you think I want you to die?!" Kurt sobbed, crying now. "I care very much about you and your family. Your youngest child is two! Taylor's youngest is two. If you both died, they wouldn't remember you. I don't want that to happen! If I could tell you, I would!"

At first, Dave didn't understand why Ophelia's age mattered so much. Then he realized what it was. When Kurt died, Frances was nearly two. She had no real memories of her father. His heart broke, and he moved in between Kurt's legs and took him in his arms. Kurt wept on Dave's shoulder, in his hair, against his cheek.

Nicky began to feed his grandmother her soup.

Kurt wept for a bit while Dave stroked his back. Eventually, he calmed down, sniffling, and hiccuped. Dave smiled fondly; the little hiccup was cute. He leaned in and kissed Kurt on the lips.

Now Kurt smiled. "Your moustache tickles me when we kiss."

They grinned at each other, sharing a moment. "Kurt, when we survive this, _when_ , not if, I want to come back here and talk to you one last time. We need closure. You... you died without us getting a chance to talk." Dave swallowed a heavy lump of emotion in his throat. "We need to talk when we're not under so much pressure."

Nodding, Kurt said, "Okay," then leaned forward and whispered in Dave's ear.

Dave's eyes widened. "Really? Are you sure?"

Kurt nodded again. He looked at Taylor. "To figure out how you break this spell, you need to think about how much Taylor means to you. He's very important to you. Your emotional connection to him even predates your second marriage. What have you never told him?"

Dave sat back on his knees and gave it some thought.

For the first time since Dave had entered the room, Boddah moved, leaning slightly forward. "Auck, cronk cronk."

Kurt raised a quieting hand. "I'm not saying any more, Boddah. I know you don't want me to interfere."

The grandmother's bowl of soup had almost been emptied. "What are we watching on TV tonight, Grandma? Have you decided?"

She considered the TV book once more. "I'd like to watch 'Tales of Tomorrow.'"

"What channel does that come on?" Nicky held the other side of the book so he could read it.

"It comes on ABC."

"Oh... Grandma, I don't think that show is on TV anymore. I don't think it's even on in repeats."

"What's a repeat?"

Gently, patiently, Nicky asked, "What year is it, Grandma?"

"1952. What a silly question."

A troubled look passed over his face for a few seconds, then he pushed it down. "How could I be here if it's 1952, Grandma? Who am I?"

"You're my grandson, Nicky."

"Right," Nicky said with a smile of relief. "Was I born in 1952?"

"No, you were born in 1960." She seemed to realize what he was saying. Her eyes filled with tears. "Nicky, what year is it?"

"It's 1992." He took her hand and kissed the back of it. "I'm sorry you're having a hard time with this tonight. It's okay, I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere."

Grandma began to cry. "What's... what's your sister's name?"

"Ericka. And my brother is - "

"Robin!" she cried triumphantly. "His name is Robin."

"Very good, Grandma!" He patted her hand.

Watching all of this, Dave scoffed. "I don't understand how he could have been so gentle and caring with his grandmother and at the same time, murdering men in his spare time."

"Isn't that how all serial killers get away with it for so long?" Kurt remarked.

Grandma leaned over now and kissed Nicky's fingers where they held her hand. "No matter what, I will never forget my Nicky. I promise. My perfect grandson who takes care of me."

He looked like he might cry in reaction. "Of course you won't, Grandma." Nicky lightly squeezed her hand.

Dave scoffed again. "'Perfect grandson.' This had to be shortly before he was caught by the police. His trial happened in 1993. I wonder what Grandma thought about him after finding out he was a killer."

"Dave, you don't understand." Kurt motioned toward Nicky and his grandmother. "She never did find out. She was dying of Alzheimers. Her son, Nicky's dad, kept the truth from her to spare her. And Nicky was the only person she never, ever forgot. She asked for him up until the day she died." He nodded to himself. "This is a very significant memory, Dave. We can use it against him."

"Like how we distracted Nicky with the sex memory?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Just tell me what you want to..." Dave suddenly grinned and started to giggle. He put his hand to his chest. "I'm sorry, something's - "

"...tickling me!" Dave said out loud, waking up on the chaise lounge. He found Oogly standing on his chest, licking up the dollop of chili. "Oogly..." he scolded lightly.

She continued to lick it up greedily. Once it was gone, Oogly jumped down to the floor and started eating out of the overturned chili bowl.

"Oogly, don't do that. You'll make yourself sick."

The cat ignored him. The stolen treat was too attractive.

All at once, Dave realized where he was and what was happening to him. He'd left Taylor's soul with Kurt and Boddah. Oh God, please keep him safe. Where was Nicky now? Was he asleep?

Looking around, Dave saw Chris asleep and no sign that Nicky had been back down there since he caught them in the act of trying to escape. He listened for a while, very carefully. At first, all he heard was Chris breathing deeply and Oogly eating out of the bowl. But over several agonizing minutes, Dave realized he could hear music playing, somewhere. It was a song he knew, but he couldn't place it just yet.

Then the music got louder as the source of it approached the kitchen. It was "Do Re Mi," Kurt's last demo. The other sound he heard wanted to rip his heart out until he figured out what it really was. It sounded like Taylor sobbing uncontrollably, like something very bad and heart wrenching was happening to him. But that wasn't Taylor crying.

It was Nicky.

The blood in Dave's veins turned to ice when the sobbing turned into a scream of anguish and something made of glass broke. This was followed by the sound of one glass after another being hurled against the floor and the walls while Nicky screamed in anger.

Chris jerked awake at the sound of the first glass breaking. As the sounds escalated, he looked at Dave, his face growing terrified, and panted with fear.

The only good thing about the noise is it got Oogly to stop eating out of the chili bowl. She cried, "Meow!" and ran and hid under the couch.

The sounds eventually stopped. Nicky probably ran out of glasses, Dave mused. He had time to hope that Nicky didn't break any of the special dishes in the breakfront when he came butt-bumping down the stairs, too drunk to walk them. Nicky got close to the bottom before stopping. He had Dave's cell phone in his hand, and somehow he had figured out how to play music on it, probably by poking at the buttons that looked like they would do something. Dave had a few Nirvana songs, the more recently released ones, on his phone, and Nicky must have discovered them.

The entire time, Nicky fixed Dave with an accusatory death stare. That couldn't be good.

Obviously, he'd been drowning his sorrows; he smelled like alcohol. Nicky held the phone up, looking at it, listening for a moment, and then began to sob heavily again. This time, it did tear Dave's heart out to hear it and see it because it was Taylor's eyes doing the crying, Taylor's face crumpled in anguish and grief and Taylor's body shaking with sobs. "He had so much more music to give!" Nicky wailed. He put his fists over his eyes like a child and wept openly.

Dave held back the tears, swallowing them until they hurt to do so. How many times had he thought those exact words?

Part of the way through the sobs, the focus changed. Nicky looked at him again and cried, "Why did Kurt betray me? Why did you betray me? Do you know how much that hurts? Why did you have to do that? Why?"

Dave wondered if he could talk his way out of this one. "Nicky, you gotta understand that we didn't mean to betray you. No one likes to be chained or tied down for hours. We just needed some relief."

"And then you'd come right back and let me cuff you back up without an argument, right? Is that what you want me to believe?"

"I would have done whatever you told me, just like I did when I took my shower."

"You ran my head into the headboard and tried to escape!" Nicky yelled, laughing bitterly through his tears. No, Dave was not making it better. He stood up on the stairs. "You think I'm a fucking idi... ot, you..." Nicky wretched, putting a hand to his stomach. He dropped Dave's phone, which somehow triggered it to stop playing the song, and dove for the nearest place he could find to throw up. That turned out to be the big vase next to the stairwell.

Both Dave and Chris cringed. "That's a Lalique," Dave mumbled.

Once he was done, Nicky weakly slid to the floor and lay there breathing hard for a while, holding his stomach.

Dave tried again. "I'm sorry we hurt you so bad, Nicky. You're sick. Come here and let me comfort you. There's just enough room for you on the edge of the chaise lounge next to me."

Nicky wailed from his place on the floor. "I want to believe you so bad, Dave. But you're lying! You don't care!"

Somehow, Dave had to convince him he was sorry. Their lives depended on it. "Please, Nicky, it's killing me to see you like this. Please come here and let me comfort you."

Dragging himself to his hands and knees, Nicky crawled, sobbing, to the side of the chaise lounge. He managed to pull himself up and get his body in the narrow space next to Dave before laying his head on the side of his chest. Draping the top arm over him, Nicky cuddled against Dave and renewed his sobbing.

Dave leaned over and kissed Nicky's head. He rubbed his cheek into his hair. "I'm sorry we hurt you. I never wanted to make you this upset."

The sobs wracked his body. "You don't want to be around me, just like my dad. He never gave me a chance either."

Would it be better to lie, or be more truthful? "You haven't even given me a chance to know you, Nicky. In time..."

"No, you want me to go away, just like him." Nicky took a deep breath and howled, crying harder. "My dad never loved me. He hit me and pushed me aside and nothing I ever did was good enough. I got a medical degree. I became a nurse! But was it good enough for him?!"

Dave had expected this kind of thing in Nicky's past. A person didn't become this twisted without a tragic past. He rubbed Nicky's head with his cheek and chin. "I'm so sorry he treated you like that. I would have been proud of you."

As Nicky continued, he started to cry so hard that Dave couldn't understand everything he was saying. The parts he understood were, "When I was a kid, my dad caught me with a boy from down the street. We were curious and we touched each other. My dad, he lost it. He got this broom and he held me down... and he... it hurt, it hurt... the broom handle... 'Is this what you like, faggot? Is this what you like?' That was his favorite word for me when he was angry."

Dave meant it when he said, "I'm so sorry those things happened to you, Nicky. No child should have to suffer such abuse."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Yes. Of course I do."

With a keening whine, Nicky hugged Dave tight and cried with his face buried in his chest. "I love you I love you I love you," he murmured.

Dave again rubbed his cheek into Nicky's hair. If he could get back at least some of his trust, maybe they could escape the threat of the nightmare, the threat that Nicky could murder them all.

Dave's hope for taking back some control of this situation fell with Nicky's next demand, a demand he made when he'd calmed down a little. "Dave, I'm still not entirely sure that you're not playing me here. I want you to prove it to me."

"Oh... how?"

His voice grew cold. "Tell me what you did with Taylor."

Dave paused for a long time. Finally, he realized he just had to be honest. Nicky wouldn't believe anything else. "I won't. You have to realize that I love Taylor, and have for a very long time. I'm not going to help you kill him so you can steal his body."

"Have you ever considered that if Taylor cared so much about you, he would have taken his body back by now?"

"No, because the statue has a spell on it that gives you the power to keep Taylor asleep. He's not capable of waking up until the spell is broken."

Nicky, suddenly angry, grabbed Dave by the hair and yanked as hard as he could manage. "How do you know so much? How?"

"Kurt." Dave winced.

"Who's feeding him information?"

Would it be dangerous to tell him about Boddah? Len already knew Boddah was there, so surely, Nicky did too. "Boddah."

"Hm. I guess I should have known that." Teasingly, Nicky kissed and nipped at Dave's neck, not letting up on his hair, holding it tightly in his fist. "I'm starting to give up on you, Dave. You're a hard nut to crack."

"I've hardly known you 24 hours yet. I told you, I need time."

"Maybe I don't want to wait any longer. Maybe I want to break you." Nicky yanked his hair again, getting in his face. "Maybe I want to hurt you like you hurt me."

Dave begged for his peace of mind, his very life. "Please don't do that, Nicky. I never wanted to hurt you so bad. I just wanted my freedom."

"Stop hurting him," Chris said, his protective inner lion coming out.

Nicky grinned, evil and vindictive. "You know what I want to do? I want to kill Chris and take you away. Take you someplace no one will ever find you."

Chris whimpered. "God, no, don't. Please." His inner lion, reduced to a mewling kitten.

"I don't have any real use for Chris, except as a plaything." He caressed Dave's stomach. "I should fuck you in front of him. Or as you'd put it, rape you." Nicky's hand followed the trail of hair down Dave's midsection to his crotch, lightly fingering the thatch of dark hair above his cock. "I can do whatever I want."

"I beg you, Nicky, don't hurt Chris."

"You're not concerned with yourself?"

"I am, but I can take being raped much more than I can take you murdering any of my friends," Dave replied.

Nicky nodded. "I suppose I can understand that. You can make it all end right now. Just tell me what you did with Taylor."

Dave laughed lightly; he couldn't help it. "I just told you, I don't want my friends murdered. I already know what you intend to do with Taylor once you find him."

Taking his hand out of Dave's underwear, Nicky leaned up on one arm and lightly shrugged. "Then I guess we're at a standstill."

"I guess we are."

Nicky dragged himself up off the chaise and rose up on shaky legs. "I'm gonna let you sleep on it. In the meantime, we'll be looking for Kurt and Taylor. If we have to find them without your help... well, you won't like what happens." With a disturbingly confident smile, he turned and made his way up the stairs, carefully and slowly, on unsteady feet.

Before he spoke, Dave waited until he couldn't hear Nicky moving anymore. "Boy, that Nicky is a weird drunk. Starts out all weepy and depressed and ends up mean."

"How can you joke like that?" Chris said, his voice cracking.

Dave let out a hysterical-sounding laugh. "I'm Dave Grohl. It's what I do."

Chris pouted for a moment before saying, "I'm sorry. I should have known you were worried." He sighed, then swallowed hard. "Dave, what are we going to do? He really means everything he just said, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, Chris. I'm sorry. Nicky means every bit of it. He tried to kill Taylor's soul. He thinks he can kill Taylor and take over his body." Dave held back threatening tears. "Nicky feels we've all betrayed him. He put a hit out on Kurt too."

"Is Kurt hiding with Taylor?"

"Yes. I think Nicky's already figured that much out. I'm not going to say any more than that out loud in case anyone's listening." He looked at the stairs, wondering if Nicky was up there, still and silent, pretending to be somewhere else in the house. "When you fall asleep, try to resist going to the place with the white bed. It's not safe now. If you do go there, see if you can find a safe memory to hide in." Dave said this last part very quietly, so even Chris could barely hear him.

Chris whispered, "The ice cream truck?"

Nodding, Dave said, "That sounds good."

"Dave, how come I'm no longer a spare? At first, Nicky said he was keeping me alive in case he needed someone else to possess. Now I'm just a 'plaything.' What changed?"

All Dave could do was shake his head. "I guess he thinks it's only a matter of time until he finds Taylor, and gets to keep his body permanently."

"I guess so." His voice shaking, Chris asked, "So what now?"

Dave lowered his voice again. "I have to wake up Taylor so he can take his body back."

Surprised, Chris said, "Why you?"

"I don't know, it has something to do with the spell keeping Taylor asleep. I have to say something to him that I've never said."

"What does that mean?"

Dave closed his eyes and laid his head back on the chaise lounge. "I'm going to do everything I can to figure it out, but... Chris, I don't know." Again, he choked back tears. Everyone's lives were in his hands. "I've done all I can to take control of this situation, but I can't control Nicky. He's loony tunes. He murdered people, for Christ's sake. Why did I ever think I could seduce him into letting us all go?"

"Don't doubt yourself, Dave. You'll figure it out." Chris tried to smile for him; Dave sounded like he was starting to lose it. "You're a very persuasive guy."

"I hope you're right, buddy."

Dave didn't want to fall asleep for anything after Nicky's threats, but his need to try to make sure Kurt and Taylor were okay got him to allow exhaustion to take him. He and Chris slept fitfully that night.


	15. Too Far Gone to See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Nicky sobbed and raised the knife to Dave's neck, working up his nerve to go through with it, a thought fleeted across Dave's mind - the homicide detective had this part wrong. He was going to be the one to die first.

The mindscape was now a very different place.

The white bed, or what would have remained of it, was gone. The space was now filled with doors of all colors, doors to various memories. Doors that seemed to lead to nowhere.

Until you opened them.

Trying to stay quiet, Dave wandered, hid, among them. He wasn't even sure where it would be safe to go. Would he lead Nicky and his demons right to Kurt and Taylor if he went to that memory? Probably.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the sounds of Nicky's posse. Distant calls, roars, screams... they were looking for two of the most important people Dave had ever known. Could he protect them if they were found?

The imp made another appearance, peeking at Dave from around a door. "I'm going to make a bunch of noise. They'll come and find you," it snickered.

"Don't you dare!"

"Dave."

The whisper almost scared him right out of his skin. He looked in its direction and saw Chris poking his head out of a door as green as grass. Chris motioned for him to share the memory with him, to rest in its safety.

Dave turned to the imp. "Screw you, Fugly!" He gratefully went through the door.

The imp stomped its foot, but did not try to follow him.

The door led out of a house and into the bright sunshine of summer. Dave smelled fresh cut grass. He took a long sniff of sunshine and front lawns and breathed out with relief. They would have a brief respite from the current horror of their real lives.

Smiling boyishly, Chris walked toward the street, where a large crowd of kids had gathered around an ice cream truck. When he got close, he transformed into his child self. Dave blinked. Little Chris got his ice cream bar and headed back, and as he got close to Dave, he became an adult again. Dave realized he could see the child version of Chris walking away with some of the other children, and the adult version still stood before him. "Interacting with your own memories is surreal," Chris said, grinning and licking his ice cream.

"That was pretty fucking weird, yeah," Dave laughed. He looked at Chris's ice cream. "What, you didn't get one for me?"

"Oh..." Chris looked at the kids, went over, and stole his brother's ice cream. The boy went on licking at the empty air as if the ice cream cone was still there.

Dave started laughing. Chris brought the ice cream back to him. "You can't really change anything about your memories, but you can fuck with them a little."

"Thanks." They took their ice creams and went back to Chris's porch to sit down and eat them.

Dave was amazed he could actually taste an ice cream cone he got from a memory, especially one that wasn't his. Chris's memory looped; the kids ran to the ice cream truck and bought their ice creams again. "This is weird, man."

"Tell me about it."

After he had licked any sticky ice cream drips off his fingers, Dave sat back and sighed. "I hope Taylor and Kurt are okay."

"We could go check on them, couldn't we?"

"No. Nicky and his goons are looking for them. If they see where we go, we could lead Nicky right to them."

"Oh God. I never thought of that." Chris put a comforting hand on Dave's shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, Dave. We're going to figure this out."

A short beat of time passed and Dave put his hands over his face and burst into tears.

"Dave?" Chris moved closer, putting his arm around his shoulders.

"What if I can't figure it out? Nicky's gonna kill us all."

"No, no..." Chris pulled him into a hug. Dave hugged him back, crying into his shoulder. "Don't think like that. You're Dave Grohl. This is what you do, right? You figure shit out."

Dave laughed a little, but continued crying until he couldn't cry anymore. Chris held and rocked him through it, occasionally patting his head. "I'm going to be there to help you through this, okay? I mean, where am I going to go? I'm tied down to a couch."

*****

The next morning, Dave was awakened by Nicky talking to Chris, giving him the speil about what would happen if he acted up. "Remember, this gun will be on you the whole time. If you ever want to see your wife and kids again, you better do what I say."

"What's going on?"

Nicky turned his tired, bloodshot blue eyes on Dave. He looked like hell. Hungover and sad, his facial hair scraggly and untrimmed. "You guys need the bathroom, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Well?" He waved the gun dismissively. "Chris gets to go first."

Chris, having been unshackled and untied, stretched his legs gratefully. He went up the stairs first and was gone for a good half hour. Dave fretted and worried the whole time. What if Chris tried something and it went wrong?

He breathed a sigh of relief when they filed dutifully down the stairs, Chris back in the same clothes but with wet hair. It wasn't like he had brought a change of clothes with him just to check on Dave and Taylor. "I hope you at least put on clean underwear," Dave joked, trying to keep the mood light for his and Chris's sake.

"I did. They're yours."

"I'm surprised you don't have to hold them up."

Nicky said nothing as he chained Chris back up to the bar, then tied his legs down to the couch. He turned to Dave. "Now you."

On the way to the master bath, Nicky reminded him what would happen to Taylor if he made any risky moves. Dave noticed the difference between the threats he made toward Chris and the threats he made when he wanted Dave to be compliant. He knew how to read people and exploit their weaknesses. But Dave no longer believed anyone was safe.

When they passed through the kitchen, Dave noticed all the broken glass had been cleaned up. He had Nicky's obsessive cleaning to thank for that.

After using the bathroom, he took advantage of the chance to shower. Might as well be clean when the police found him with his throat slit. Dave made another one of those hysterical laughing sounds at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Nicky called over the shower door.

"Nothing," Dave called back. "Just having scary thoughts. You didn't hear the hysteria?"

After a pause, Nicky replied, "You should be scared."

Dave believed him. He had to do something to turn this whole thing around.

Desperate, when he got out of the shower, Dave gave Nicky an eyeful by ruffling a towel through his hair but doing nothing to cover his wet, naked body. Nicky looked, watching the water drip onto the floor from every inch of Dave, and stared longingly. "I don't know what would be more fun, fucking you in front of your friend while you beg me to stop or fucking you gently while you beg me not to stop."

"I like the second one." Dave would do anything to gain back Nicky's trust at this point, to avoid the nightmare coming true.

"If only I believed you." Nicky threw another towel at him. "You're just trying to get me to stop being mad at you."

"Maybe I am. But wouldn't you still enjoy it?" Dave used the second towel to rub his crotch under the guise that he was drying off, knowing that even Nicky knew he was trying to be coy, seductive. Nicky watched the towel move around the bobbing cock and licked his lips.

"What would you do to make it all up to me?"

"I'd let you fuck me like you wanted to on Sunday."

"You'd go that far to save Taylor?"

The question surprised him; Dave stopped moving. "Would it save Taylor?"

Now Nicky became coy. "I don't know. Why don't you lay down on the bed and give me a little taste?"

Hopeful, Dave dried himself off as much as he could and put the towel on one end of the bed. He laid across the end with his wet hair on the towel and waited to see what Nicky meant by "a little taste." If this could possibly save Taylor, he'd do it, and he wouldn't cry this time.

A mischievous grin on his face, Nicky sat on the bed nearby and held the gun to Taylor's chin. "Remember, don't try to touch me this time."

"Okay."

"Masturbate," Nicky commanded.

Dave nodded, and wrapped his hand around his cock. Nicky watched while Dave stroked himself, eyes closed, dick growing in hardness every minute. He started off with light, soft moans of pleasure, but they grew in volume the more excited he got. "Ohh... ohhh... ohhhh Nicky."

His eyes widened, and he laughed. "You do lay it on thick, don't you, Grohl?"

Dave wasn't sure this was working. He kept stroking himself anyway, hoping he could turn Nicky on. His fist pumped up and down faster. His breath quickened. "Ahhh... ahh... Nicky... God, Nicky..." Dave clutched the sheet in his left fist.

Nicky grinned at him, clearly not buying that Dave was thinking of him at all, but enjoying the show anyway. "Are you my eager little whore, Dave? Hm?"

"Uh huh."

"If I asked you to fuck yourself with a big ol' dildo, would you do it?"

"In a second... ohh..."

"If I shoved my dick in your mouth, would you willingly suck it?"

"I would."

"Ohh, you are so hot. Now cum all over yourself." Nicky waited, excited to watch Dave play this whole thing out.

Dave did, putting on the dirtiest show he could dream up. He rubbed his cock as fast as he could until he was crying out with a pleasurable orgasm, directing the cum all over his chest. One string of it hit his chin. Dave kept pumping, riding the orgasm out and moving his hips in time with his fist. He ran his free hand through the cum, rubbing it across his skin, and put a wet finger in his mouth, sucking the cum from it. "Mmm... mm..." he crooned. It was a performance not even he knew he was capable of.

Grinning with amusement, Nicky took advantage of the moment by leaning forward and taking hold of Dave's head with both hands. He licked the cum off Dave's chin and then kissed him, a hungry, dirty kiss. Dave did not resist or try to overpower him; he showed only submission, hoping it would work to earn back Nicky's trust.

When the kiss was broken, Nicky leaned back and was instantly on guard. "Dave, you are an absolute delight. All I have to do is threaten Taylor and you willingly become my manwhore. I love it."

That didn't sound promising. Dave took the other towel and began to clean any remaining evidence of what he'd just done off his chest. "Are you still going to hurt Taylor?"

"Probably, yeah. I haven't decided yet."

If Nicky hadn't been in Taylor's body, Dave would have leapt on top of him at that moment and wrung his neck. "You bastard."

Nicky snickered.

A few minutes later and he had Dave back in a pair of boxers and chained to the chaise lounge. Chris knew something bad had happened; he could tell by the disturbed, crestfallen look on Dave's face. "Dave? You okay?"

Before Dave could say anything, Nicky spoke for him. "Oh, your buddy Dave just tried to play me. I know the only one he really cares about is Taylor. But I'm going to fuck all that out of him over time. He put on a show for me that got me pretty hard. You wanna see?" Nicky unzipped and unbuttoned Taylor's jeans, taking out his hard cock and rubbing it. Eyes shocked and wide, Chris looked away. Nicky threw in a few moans to make his own show better. "You still like to see this, Chris? You said Taylor looked so hot when he played with himself."

"God, please leave Chris alone."

"Dave can't wait his turn." Nicky climbed on top of him, straddling Dave's midsection with his knees. Nicky pushed the jeans down off his ass and wiggled it, looking back at Chris. "You still like this ass, Chris? You still wanna fuck it?" He reached back and slapped one butt cheek.

"Pleeease, stop torturing my friend. You're killing me," Dave begged.

"It's all about you, isn't it?" Nicky took fistfuls of Dave's hair in both his hands. "Open your mouth, or I'll rape Chris in front of you."

That made him mad. Dave started to say, "God, you don't have to make threats like - " but Nicky filled his mouth, shoving his dick deep into his throat. Dave made unprepared choking noises.

Chris looked, shocked at the sound. "Stop hurting him!"

"Oh, shut up, Chris." Nicky eased the cock out a bit, instructing Dave to, "Breathe. Breathe through your nose. Thaaat's it. Easy, baby, easy." He slid his dick back in slowly, giving Dave time to suck it instead of choke on it. "Ohhh, that's good. You're sooo good to me, Davey."

"You're a horrible monster!" Chris said, close to tears.

"Ii~ii kno~ow," Nicky crooned. He slowly fucked Dave's mouth, floating on the intense feeling. "I can't help but be mean when people break my heart."

Dave did as Nicky wanted, taking his punishment. If he physically hurt Nicky by biting him, he'd be hurting Taylor. If he tried to resist, Nicky might take it out on Chris. Dave willingly allowed the forced blowjob, using his tongue to make it feel even better, and tried to think of Taylor. Taylor, who would never ever hurt him like this.

Nicky lost some of the control over how good it felt; he stopped pulling Dave's hair and cradled his head in his hands instead. "Oh Dave... oh Dave..." He panted, hips moving toward and away, toward and away. "It feels so good. I love you... I love you..."

Shortly after, he came in Dave's mouth.

Nicky eased himself out of Dave's tired jaw and rocked back onto his haunches, sitting on Dave's midsection. He gently, lovingly kissed Dave, holding his face again, and Dave did not resist. Until the end, he would keep trying to manipulate Nicky into letting them all live.

"Why, why do you reject me one minute and please me like that the next? Can't you understand how much I love you, want you, need you? Dave..." Nicky held his face and rubbed their heads together, placing small kisses on Dave's ears, neck, nose, wherever he could. "Why do you hurt me?"

"I told you, Nicky, I need time."

He growled loudly in reaction. "Fine. Is this really what you need?" Nicky reached into his pocket and took out the folding utility knife usually kept in a kitchen drawer. With a determined look, Nicky unfolded it open.

Horrified, Dave stammered, "What are you doing?"

Nicky began to carve into Taylor's arm.

Both Dave and Chris gasped. "Stop it! Stop hurting him!" Dave cried.

Ignoring them, Nicky continued, gritting his teeth as he drew letters into Taylor's skin. Blood dripped onto Dave's chest, the chaise lounge, and Taylor's clothes. He carved five letters into the arm, and showed it to Dave.

_YOURS_

"You see? This is how much I love you. I could belong to you and you to me if you'd only open your heart."

Dave could not speak at first. He stared at the arm in horror, not only because of Nicky's sick willingness to hurt himself for "love" (and, unfortunately, Taylor), but because of what this meant.

_...that word carved into his chest, and the one carved into Hawkins' arm..._

It was the nightmare. No matter what Dave did, they continued to barrel towards it.

_MINE. YOURS._

Words failed him further when his phone, still sitting on the floor near the bottom of the stairs, began to ring.

Nicky fixed his pants and got up, casually retrieving the phone. Blood dripped from his arm to the floor. He looked at the phone and sighed. "It's your wife again. She can leave a message, can't she?"

Dave swallowed and finally spoke. "Yeah." It was more of a croak than a word. He swallowed again. "Will you please go stop that bleeding?"

Nicky stared at the phone, transfixed. "Okay." He slowly went up the stairs.

Dave relaxed a little when he heard the water running. Truthfully, he didn't have much reason to.

"Dave, that was really scary," Chris remarked.

"THAT was really scary? As compared to all the normal things Nicky's done?"

Nicky came back a few minutes later. He had stopped the bleeding, but had not bandaged the red, angry wounds. Strangely, he was still staring at Dave's phone.

"Nicky? You okay?"

"Your wife left you three messages," he said, in a daze. "Your kids talked on them. 'Hi Daddy. We love you. We miss you.'" Nicky swallowed; the motion clicked in his throat. "They sound cute."

Something was wrong. Something was really wrong. Alarm bells were going off in Dave's head. "Nicky, what's the matter?"

When Nicky looked at him, he could see it written all over his face. Just like that, the nightmare was happening. "I'm sorry, Dave." Nicky let out a small sob. "I don't think this is going to work."

He turned and went up the stairs.

Dave felt the panic constricting his chest, making it hard to breathe. "Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit, Kurt, help me."

Chris looked up. "What's wrong?"

Dave didn't have to answer him. He knew something was up when Nicky came back with a butcher knife in his hand.

Tears ran from Nicky's eyes. He sniffled and tried to smile. "Those phone calls made me realize that the way I want to handle this will never work. You have a wife... kids... Taylor too... they simply won't leave us alone. We can't hide from them forever. Chris would only complicate things. If I took you away, your wife would look for you. The money would eventually be cut off. She would never stop, because you're the father of her children. They would never stop asking for their daddy."

Babbling in fear, Dave said, "Nicky, please, whatever you're thinking of doing, we can work this out, it doesn't have to end this way. We can somehow make it work."

Nicky shook his head. "You know I'm right. When we're all dead, our souls will merge, and then we can be together forever. No one will stand in our way." He looked at his reflection in the knife. "It will be easier that way, Dave, you'll see."

"What?" Chris looked from Nicky to Dave.

Taking a step toward him, Nicky said, "I'll make it as quick as I can. And I'll do you first, my love, so you don't have to watch Chris die."

A look of absolute horror and fear completely took over Chris's face, and he began to scream. "No! Nooooo! I want to see my wife and kids again! I want to see my wife and kids again!" He struggled violently to free himself.

_Dave, time is up!_ Kurt's voice screamed in his head. _Tell Taylor how you feel! Tell him everything, even the things you don't want to say out loud!_

Dave groaned. He finally knew how to break the spell. Nicky walked toward him with the knife. "Taylor, listen to me. Please hear me. I love you. I have been in love with you since your overdose, but I could have loved you romantically since you were Oh. If you had just told me, it could have been you and me back then. I would not have kept you out of the band because we had sex. I felt an instant connection to you when we played that Rush song together. You're one of my closest soul mates. I want you to be with me forever.

"I wouldn't trade my children for anything, and I know you wouldn't either, but I can't deny the fact that if you had told me you were Oh, our lives could have been very different. I love Jordyn and I don't want to hurt her, but if you asked me to leave her, God help me, I would do it. I can't spend another day not being with you. I want us to explore a relationship, a romantic relationship, you and me." Those words about his marriage, they hurt so much to say, but they also felt liberating, like ultimate truth.

Nicky had sat down on the edge of the chaise lounge. He didn't seem to hear what Dave was saying, lost in a trance. As he sobbed and raised the knife to Dave's neck, working up his nerve to go through with it, a thought fleeted across Dave's mind - the homicide detective had this part wrong. He was going to be the one to die first. "Taylor, I want us to explore everything we can make of our lives together, but we can't do anything if you don't wake up! Taylor, please, _wake up!"_

From his hiding place in the grandmother's bed, Taylor gasped and opened his eyes.

 

_Notes:_ I feel like I should apologize to Jordyn Grohl after this chapter. Sorry, sorry, it's just fiction. ^_^;;


	16. Live-in Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my body, motherfucker. Get the fuck out.

Dave was aware of Chris screaming, "No! Don't do it! Leave him alone, please, God, please!" and Nicky saying that he didn't want to do this, but he had to, but Dave couldn't see any of it, because his eyes were squeezed shut as he braced for the pain of his throat being cut.

In his head, he chanted, _Please Taylor, wake up, Taylor, wake up, please..._

Nicky began to screech, his teeth gritted, as if he was putting a great deal of effort into something. Needing to know what was happening, Dave dared to open his eyes. Nicky was frozen, arms shaking but unmoving as he struggled to make the motion that would slash Dave's throat. The knife hovered an inch from his skin. "I, I can't move!" he cried, not understanding why. Then the realization came into his eyes, and he snarled angrily, obviously stunned by what was happening. "You woke him up!" Nicky yelled. He kept trying to cut Dave's throat, but his hands wouldn't make the motions. Nicky threw his head back and screamed in frustration. "GODDAMN YOU, TAYLOR'S AWAAAAAAKE!"

"What?!" Chris began to yell encouragement to Taylor. "Fight him, Taylor! Take your body back! Don't let him kill us! You can do it!"

Dave looked down at the knife and cringed away, inwardly cheering Taylor on. _Tee... am I getting you back?_

Rubbing his eyes, Taylor sat up. He looked around the grandmother's room in bewilderment. When he saw Kurt, he was especially confused. "Hey... you're - "

"Yeah, I'm Kurt Cobain. There isn't much time to explain. You know about Nicky Kelly?"

"Yeah."

"You need to take your body back from him before he kills everybody."

Taylor gasped. "Dave and Chris... he's got a knife."

Kurt nodded. "Exactly."

"How do I do this?"

Hopping off the bed, Kurt pointed to Nicky's grandmother. "I have a plan to distract Nicky so you have a better chance of beating him in this fight. But there's some things you gotta know first."

"What?"

"Nicky's been lying to Dave to get him to do what he says. He never would have killed you until now. He couldn't have. If Nicky shoots you, he goes right back to the statue and gets trapped again. If your body is physically hurt in any way that endangers your life, Nicky will be expelled from it. He's ready to do it now because he thinks he'll be able to kill Dave and Chris and then you, and then lay in wait inside the statue for the next person to try to communicate with him so he can have another chance at life," Kurt explained.

"That could be one of Dave's kids," Taylor said, alarmed.

"Yeah, or someone else, if the statue is sold off. Nicky's goal is to live again. But if you're alive and you expel Nicky from your body, he'll be trapped in the statue again, and we can send him back to Hell before he has the chance to hurt or possess anyone else." Kurt indicated the grandmother. "What I'm about to do will be an illusion, but Nicky won't know that. I can't really take his grandmother out of a memory. So the window of time you'll have to take your body back will be short."

Taylor nodded his understanding. "You said if my body is physically threatened, Nicky will be expelled from it?"

"Yeah, but don't worry, I'll provide a great distraction." Clapping him on the shoulder, Kurt said, "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Nodding to Boddah, Kurt commanded, "Then open the door."

Nicky was still trying to gain back control of Taylor's body when a voice seemed to come from the mirror in the corner. "Nicky!" It sounded like Taylor's voice.

Everyone turned to look at the mirror. They could see a transparent vision of Taylor wrapped in a bedsheet and standing in front of a blue door. The door ajar, it burned with the word GRANDMA.

Nicky gaped in horror. "DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR!" he shrieked.

Taylor opened the door anyway. Out came Kurt, pushing Nicky's grandmother in her wheelchair, a vindictive, mischievous grin on his face. She looked around as if she was seeing into the art room of Dave's house. "Nicky! What's going on here? Why are these men chained up?" Grandma covered her mouth in shock. "My God, what are you doing?!"

Shaking his head, Nicky tried to hide the knife behind his back. He was too focused on his grandmother to notice that this physical motion, he was able to do - it was just the movements that threatened the lives of Taylor's loved ones that he was unable to complete. "Nothing, Grandma. This is just... um..." His mouth opened and closed several times as he struggled for the right words.

Kurt's eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of revenge. "I see more doors that belong to you, Nicky. They're labeled 'Evan' and 'Bruce' and... so many names. Should I take Grandma beyond those doors to see what memories are saved there?"

"What did you do to them, Nicky?" Taylor added.

Grandma asked, "What are they talking about?"

Furious, Nicky screamed, "Put her back in her room!" Then he began to cry again. "Grandma, please, don't look!" He covered his head with his arms. "Don't see what I did. Don't look! ...Never stop loving me..."

Len seemed to come from out of nowhere. Tackling Kurt, he yelled, "Cobain!" and then they could be heard struggling and wrestling on the floor.

"Kurt!" Dave cried.

Grandma screamed in fear.

Taylor started to go to help Kurt, but Kurt said, "No, Taylor, go! Take your body back! Quick!"

The transparent vision of Taylor's soul ran toward the edge of the mirror.

Still crying and hiding from the world, Nicky didn't see him coming. He was blown back as if someone had shoved him backward off the chaise lounge. For the next minute, Taylor and Nicky did a dance around the room like Taylor's body was being shoved, punched, and thrown about by an invisible assailant. He slammed against the wall beside the staircase.

Dave and Chris yelled their encouragement to Taylor. "You can do it, Taylor! Kick his ass to the curb!"

When Nicky looked at him, blue eyes burning with fury, Dave was convinced he was about to die. "YOU BASTARD!" Nicky snarled. He raised the knife above his head and ran at Dave, screaming, ready to kill.

Dave called, "Tee!"

A foot from the chaise, Taylor's body stopped as if he'd reached the end of a tether. He jerked back, arms falling to his side, and again flew back into the wall.

Brown eyes. "Dave, I'm gonna do this. I - "

He stumbled back into the stairwell. Blue eyes. "How dare you involve my grandmother! I'll kill you all, you - "

Against the opposite wall of the staircase. Brown eyes. " - know what I have to do. Don't - "

Blue. " - fucking pieces of shit! I'll spread your body parts all over - "

Brown. " - worry about me. I know what I'm do - "

Blue. " - this house!"

Brown. " - ing."

Dave's head swam with what he was seeing. "Taylor, you can beat him!" he said in anguish. "I believe in you!"

To his horror, the knife was raised and aimed inward toward Taylor's midsection, on the left side. He held the knife with both hands. Taylor and Nicky fought each other for control; his arms and hands shook with effort.

"No! Don't hurt Taylor!" Dave begged.

It surprised Dave to see the eyes were blue when he said, "No, damnit! I won't let you do it! I won't go back!"

His eyes turned brown, and a new look of determination came over Taylor's face. "This is my body, motherfucker," he rasped. "Get the fuck out."

With that, he stabbed himself in the gut.

"Taylor!" Dave and Chris both cried.

The knife sunk in halfway, ripping through his T-shirt. Taylor grunted, his eyes squeezing shut on the pain. The room filled with a sucking-growling sound. A transparent white cloud lifted from Taylor's body; it looked a great deal like the thing Dave had seen invade Taylor the night he was possessed. The ghost then zipped across the room and slammed into the statue hard enough to rock it on its stand.

Blue seeped into the statue's eyes. Nicky was again its prisoner.

His eyes rolling up in his head, Taylor groaned and fell to the floor.


	17. Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blood had run down his left leg, soaking a large portion of his thigh. Put that with the big, fresh stain on his stomach and he was a horror show.

There was a metallic clatter as the knife was knocked out of his body when he hit the hardwood floor. Warm blood trickled out of the wound. He could hear Dave calling to him, telling him he had to move, he had to bring him the key to the handcuffs or no one would be able to help him, hospital, we have to get you to the hospital. But greyness threatened to take over his vision. Unconsciousness wanted to claim him. He had to fight it.

Then a hand cupped his cheek. _I'm sorry to do this after what you've been through, but you need my help. Let me lend you my strength. Just for a minute._

The being of someone new moved through him.

When Taylor inhaled sharply and looked up, Dave's heart absolutely sank to new depths. His eyes were blue again. But then his heart dared to hope as he realized Taylor's eyes weren't an ordinary shade of medium blue.

They were cobalt blue.

"Come on Taylor, it's not that far," Kurt said through him. He dragged his body across the floor toward the chaise lounge, leaving behind a trail of blood. "I can be strong for both of us. We're almost there."

"Kurt? Is that you?" Dave said.

"We can chat another time. Lucky for us, Nicky kept the key to the handcuffs in his pocket." Kurt took it out and held it up. "Saves us time looking for it." He unlocked one side of Dave's cuffs.

As soon as he was free, Dave jumped up off the chaise and raced to Taylor's side. He took the key from his fingers and unlocked the other cuff, then threw them aside. Taking hold of Taylor's head with both hands, he checked his eyes. They were brown again. "Taylor, are you okay?"

It was a dumb question, but his sarcastic response made Dave's heart soar. "Yeah, I'm totally gooch, man."

Laughing, he gave Taylor a long, relieved kiss. Dave pulled Taylor's T-shirt off over his head and wadded it into a ball, then pressed it to the bleeding knife wound in his abdomen. His eyes widening, Taylor winced in pain. Dave said, "Why did you do that? Why did you stab yourself?" A pause and then, "How did you know it would work?"

"Kurt told me. He said if my life was seriously physically threatened, Nicky would be driven back into the statue." Taylor's eyelids fluttered, and he almost passed out. "Dave, we gotta go," he slurred, grabbing Dave's arm in a death squeeze.

Dave nodded. "Okay! We're gonna get you to the hospital!"

Chris had been calling to him; Dave finally heard. He took the hand gripping his arm and put it on the T-shirt compress. "Hold this there. I'll be right back."

A frightened look in his eyes, Taylor nodded and tried to stay conscious.

Running to the couch, Dave unlocked Chris's handcuffs. Then he helped him free his legs from the yellow rope. "Go upstairs and find your phone and Taylor's. Hurry! We're going to take him to the hospital. It'll be faster than waiting for an ambulance."

"Okay! And you need some clothes."

Dave looked down at himself. Oh yeah, he was in his underwear. "Uh, yeah, clothes!"

With a curt nod, Chris ran up the stairs.

Dave returned to Taylor's side. "It'll just be a couple of minutes, and we can go." He took over applying direct pressure to Taylor's wound.

"Dave, if... if I don't make it, tell Alison and the kids that... that my last thoughts were of them," Taylor said. He was fighting unconsciousness.

"Don't talk like that! People survive stab wounds all the time. We're going to get you to the hospital!" Dave realized he was crying.

"Just tell them that if I don't make it!" Taylor insisted angrily.

Dave accepted that anger happily; he was never so glad to see Taylor show spirit. "Okay, no problem. No problem, buddy." He reached to stroke Taylor's cheek and recoiled from the blood on his hand. Both of his hands were covered in Taylor's blood.

"I'm... I'm sorry... I yelled." Taylor's eyes welled up with tears. "I love you, Dee."

Dave sniffled. "I love you too, Tee. So much." Then he added, "You were so brave to do this to save me and Chris. I owe you my life."

Taylor tried to smile. "You would have done it for me. I just couldn't let him kill you."

Chris came running back down the stairs and slipped on the knife; he wound up dumping everything in his arms and himself in a heap on the floor. Dave cried, "Thanks!" and started digging his clothes out of the pile. Quickly, he had to wipe the blood off his hands with the socks Chris had brought. They seemed like the least important thing he had to put on. Once his hands were as clean as he could get them, Dave jumped up to put on his jeans and shirt.

Looking at Taylor, Chris's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Taylor, for endangering your life to save ours!" He leaned over and kissed Taylor's cheeks gratefully. "I get to see Cara and the boys again." Chris laughed hysterically. "I didn't think I would. I thought he was going to kill me! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll never forget this!"

"You're welcome, man."

Rapidly slipping his feet into his shoes, Dave cried, "I'm dressed!" He ran over, snatched up his phone, and shoved it in his back pocket. "Taylor, you hold that shirt on your wound. Help me pick him up."

"Okay!" Chris helped Dave get Taylor in his arms and pick him up off the floor. Taylor winced and tried not to cry out in pain.

"You got the other phones?"

Chris nodded.

"We take your car. You drive."

Chris nodded again, vigorously. They ran up the stairs as quickly as they could with Taylor in tow.

On the way to the hospital, Dave kept talking to Taylor, telling him he was going to be okay. Taylor lay across his lap, in his arms, trying to stay conscious. Suddenly, Dave said, "Oh God. We gotta come up with a good story."

"What?"

"We can't tell them Taylor stabbed himself to drive out a homicidal ghost. They'd think we were loony tunes." He spied the word carved into Taylor's arm. "And this word! _YOURS!_ Shit, how are we going to explain that?!"

"I had a fight with Alison on the phone, and I got drunk and carved up my arm to prove my feelings for her," Taylor suggested, his voice weak but mostly awake.

"That story will wind you up in the psyche ward," Dave said.

"Maybe not," Chris called from the driver's seat. He weaved dangerously in and out of the remnants of morning traffic. "With all the teenagers cutting themselves these days, doctors are more used to seeing it."

"Taylor's hardly a teenager."

"Thanks a lot," Taylor joked.

"And even if they do put him on some sort of psyche watch, he'd probably only be on it a short time." Chris cringed to say it, but he felt it had to be said. "Taylor will most likely be in the hospital a few days anyway."

Dave's face fell, furrowed and lined with worry.

"What about my stab wound?" Taylor's voice sounded weaker, fainter.

"Umm... you were carrying a knife down the stairs to cut a wheel of cheese and you tumbled down the stairs and fell on it," Dave said.

Chris just laughed. "They're not going to believe that."

"The knife or the wheel of cheese?" Taylor asked.

Looking down at him, Dave said, "What?"

"Did I fall on the knife or the cheese?" He chuckled a little, then winced. "Maybe it was sharp cheddar."

Dave couldn't help it; he laughed out loud. "You're a nut. I love you, Taylor."

"I love you... Dave." Taylor's eyelids fluttered, and he passed out.

"Taylor?!" Wanting to panic, Dave checked Taylor's vitals as best he could.

"Is he okay?"

"He's still breathing." Checking the compress over Taylor's stab wound, Dave's head swam, and he groaned. The T-shirt had a great deal of blood on it, so much that it had soaked through and stained the plaid shirt Chris had brought Dave to wear. He had a large, round patch of blood on his stomach. Taylor's blood. "Oh God, he's bleeding really bad."

Chris said nothing at first, swallowing hard and trying to concentrate on driving. "Check his pulse."

Dave did. "Seems rapid."

Again, Chris clammed up, but managed to say, "We're almost there."

Dave held Taylor close and spoke quietly in his ear. "We're almost to the hospital. Hold on, okay? They're gonna fix you up."

A bare minute later, Chris pulled into a parking spot near the entrance and jumped out. He came around and helped support Taylor as Dave got out with him in his arms. Taylor groaned.

"We're here, Tee! We're gonna get you inside." They ran in through the automatic doors, which swooshed open to allow them passage. "Help! My friend accidentally stabbed himself! He's bleeding real bad!"

A woman standing near the doors gasped; the scene was quite dramatic. She covered her mouth and backed away. Dave didn't fully understand her horror, other than the fact that he was a tall, longhaired man carrying another fairly tall, longhaired man with no shirt on. A joke about Chris being kind of short skirted across his mind, but it was driven out as two people in scrubs came running toward them, one of them pulling a gurney alongside him.

"What happened?" the female nurse said. She and the male nurse quickly took Taylor from him and put him on the gurney.

"He was carrying a knife and tripped and fell down the stairs. He accidentally stabbed himself."

"What kind of knife?"

"A butcher knife."

She opened one of Taylor's eyes and shined a light in it. Taylor groaned again and shook his head. "What's your name?"

"Taylor," he said weakly.

"We're going to take care of you, Taylor." She looked at Dave, her eyes moving down his body, then said, "We've got to get some blood in you; you've lost a lot." The nurse, who was already wearing gloves, pressed on Taylor's abdomen near the stab wound. He curled in on himself and groaned, a little too high-pitched for Dave's comfort. The way she touched him really hurt. "Page Doctor Curry." The male nurse went to a phone on the wall and did as she instructed. Another female nurse ran over. "Let's get him back, get that bleeding stopped."

Dave opened his mouth to ask a million questions, but the male nurse tapped his arm. "Wait over there," he said, still on the phone. He pointed to some chairs that were around the corner from the main part of the emergency room, away from prying eyes. "We'll let you know more once we get him stabilized."

"Okay. Did he look bad? Do you think he'll be okay?" Dave asked.

"We'll know more once we check him out." The nurse handed Dave a towel. "He's lost some blood, so we need to take care of that first." The man gave Dave's arm a comforting pat before speaking into the phone.

Why did the guy hand Dave a towel? Chris finally had a chance to look, and he gasped. Dave, confused, looked down at himself.

Taylor's blood had run down his left leg, soaking a large portion of his thigh. Put that with the big, fresh stain on his stomach and he was a horror show. No wonder the woman near the doors had reacted the way she had. Even Dave had to gasp and stand there, gawping at himself. "Fuck!" he cried. That was Taylor's blood.

Chris took the towel from him and wiped at the stain on his stomach. "If we just get some of this off you, it won't be so bad."

Dave realized his hands were shaking. "Chris, what if he dies? What if Taylor sacrificed himself to save us?"

"He's not going to die. They're going to get some blood in him and close up that wound, and he'll be alright." Chris took Dave by the elbows. "You need to sit down."

"I, I can't lose him. Not now. Especially not now." Dave couldn't stop looking at Taylor's blood, all over him. "Chris, I can't lose him." His voice broke.

"Dave, he's going to be alright. Taylor will be alright." He pushed lightly at Dave's arms and he went weakly into one of the chairs, bursting into tears. Chris sat next to him and pulled him into his arms; Dave wept on his shoulder. Soon, they were both weeping and hugging each other, for the fact that they had made it out of this alive, and that Taylor might not.

*****

Their sobs had become sniffles by the time the doctor came out to speak to them. "Taylor Hawkins. Are you Taylor Hawkins' family?"

Dave jumped up. "Yes! How is he?"

"Hello, I'm Doctor Curry. Mr. Hawkins is showing signs of internal bleeding. He's given us permission to operate to stop the bleeding and make sure he didn't perforate any organs. The surgery will take about four to five hours."

"Once the surgery is done, will he be okay?" Chris asked.

"Barring any complications or infection, he should make a full recovery."

Dave and Chris looked at each other, sighing with relief. "Thank you, thank you so much," Dave said, shaking Dr. Curry's hand.

"He asked that you come speak to him before the surgery. You can stay for only a moment, alright?" the doctor instructed.

They nodded.

Dave was glad they made him cover his clothes with a gown before going in; he didn't want Taylor to see all the blood. Taylor's hair had been put up into a shower cap. He looked like he might fall asleep any second. "Heeeey," he said as Dave and Chris came toward him.

Looking at the bag of blood attached to Taylor's arm, Dave cupped his cheek in his hand and said, "Hey Tee. You going under the knife twice in one day?"

Taylor chuckled. He spoke slowly. "Yeah. Hey, you'll get Alison back here, won't you? But not the kids. This will just scare them."

"Sure," Dave promised. "I'll give her a call after we're done talking to you." And tell her... what, exactly?

"Hey Taylor. The doctor said as long as there aren't any complications, you'll be just fine," Chris told him.

Taylor gave a sleepy little, "Yaaay."

Dave planted a kiss on Taylor's forehead. "I think we'll let you get to it, then. You come back to us, okay?"

"I don't plan to go anywhere else."

"Good. We'll see you after the surgery." They both patted his arm and said their goodbyes.

Just before they walked out, Dave noticed the bandage on Taylor's arm. It covered the word _YOURS_. No one had said anything about that yet. He wondered when the questions would start.

Back in the waiting room, Dave made sure no one else was around but Chris. He took out his phone. It needed to be charged, but it should last as long as he needed it to. Readying himself, he called Jordyn.

She answered immediately. "Dave, where have you been? Is everything alright?"

"No, babe, it's not," he said, and sighed. "I need you and Alison to pack a bag and come back to Los Angeles. Taylor's hurt. He's in surgery right now."

"Oh my God, what happened?"

Dave started with the lie. "He was walking down the stairs to the art room and he had a knife in his hand that I asked him to bring to cut a wheel of cheese. You know me and cheese."

"You love cheese," she said.

He couldn't help but grin. "Yeah. Anyway, Taylor tripped and fell and accidentally stabbed himself."

"Holy crap!" Someone spoke to Jordyn and she repeated the phony story to them. Dave heard Alison shriek. Were they actually buying this? "We'll get some stuff together and get the first flight back."

"Don't bring the kids, okay? Leave them there with their grandparents and the nanny. If things get serious, we'll bring everybody home. But for now, Taylor doesn't want to scare his kids."

"Okay."

There were shuffling noises and Alison came on the phone. "Dave, why is he in surgery? Did Taylor hit an organ with the knife or something?"

"They don't know. He's showing signs of internal bleeding, so they're going in to make it stop." To make her and himself feel better, Dave repeated what the doctor had said. "As long as there aren't any complications, he should make a full recovery."

"Oh... oh, that sounds good," Alison said with relief.

"Put Jordyn back on the phone, okay?"

She did. "Are you picking us up at the airport?"

"Yeah. You call me when you land and I'll come get you. Don't talk to anybody. I don't know how quickly the press will get wind of this; there may be someone at the airport when you land." Dave didn't like the press talking to his family ever, but especially about matters as personal as this. If there were any press at the airport, he would be the one to talk to them.

"Okay. What about Chris? Where is he? Is he okay?" Jordyn asked.

Dave looked at Chris, who already had wide eyes like a rabbit in a snare. Oh, God, Nicky had fucked him up. It would be a while before he was really okay again. "Chris is right here." He said to Chris, "Do you want Cara to come back?"

The rabbit eyes went wider for a moment, and then he shook his head. "No. I'll call Cara myself." Chris took out his phone and walked to the other side of the room, where he could have some privacy.

Dave relayed this information to Jordyn. "You know the flight is going to take five hours, right?" she reminded him.

"I know. The surgery may be over by then."

Jordyn laughed lightly. "With the jetlag, we'll probably be just as groggy as Taylor will be by then. I would like to drop our bags off at the house before we go to the hospital. Dave, are you sure you don't want us to do all of this by cab so you can stay at the hospital and be there when - "

"No!" Dave barked. "Don't go by the house alone! Not until I take care of..." He realized what he was saying, and stopped abruptly, unsure how to continue.

Jordyn paused a long time. "Okay," she finally said. "Why don't you want us to go by the house?"

"Um... there's a lot of blood, Taylor's blood, on the floor of the art room." It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie, either.

"Oh... God..." Jordyn replied, obviously horrified at this detail, something she hadn't thought of. "Okay, we won't go by the house without you."

"I'll take care of everything before you get home."

"Okay."

"Jordyn, can you do one more thing for me?"

"Yes?"

"Can you make an excuse to go off where Alison can't hear you so I can tell you what really happened?" Dave requested. He couldn't keep lying. He needed to give her an idea of what she'd be walking into.

"What - " There was another long pause. "Okay." He heard her say something to Alison about being right back, then there were some shuffling noises before she said, "Okay, we can talk."

Dave sighed. "I never meant to lie to you, babe, but the real story is long and a bit crazy. We'll eventually tell you everything, but I thought it would be better if Alison didn't have all of this to think about on the long flight back."

"Okay... what did happen?"

Unsure how to start, Dave said, "I lied to you when I said we didn't make contact with the ghost in the statue. We did, and he's responsible for Taylor being hurt."

"I knew it, I knew that ghost was dangerous!" Jordyn cried. This surprised Dave quite a bit, but it wasn't outside the realm of things his wife could believe. "He showed me that horrible vision of the head in the bathtub. A vision like that can only mean two things. Either the ghost is showing you his murder, or..."

"Or the ghost murdered someone when he was alive," Dave finished. "And he showed you this murder."

Jordyn gasped. "Hold on, that's not what I was going to say. I was going to say that the ghost was mean, and was trying to scare you with a vision he made up. Dave, what are you saying?!"

"I'm saying that the ghost in our house was a murderer when he was alive."

Pausing a long time, Jordyn swallowed hard before she spoke again; Dave heard her throat click. "Now I'm really not bringing the kids back with me on this trip."

Dave promised, "Babe, I'm going to take care of the ghost and get him out of our house. He's trapped in the statue again. I just need to figure out who did this to us and how we can send the ghost back to Hell."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I'll tell you later. I have a hunch on where we can get help."

"Okay. So how did the ghost hurt Taylor? Did he push him down the stairs?" Jordyn guessed.

How did he tell her this over the phone? "No."

"Did he somehow... push Taylor on the knife?"

"Jordyn, I would much rather tell you this in person. The story is long and... it's crazy. It's going to sound crazy."

"Just answer me this question. Was the ghost somehow influencing Taylor to not act like himself, and he forced Taylor to hurt himself or something?" Jordyn asked.

Dave couldn't speak at first, he was so floored by the question. "Yes, that's pretty much what happened, as crazy as it sounds. There's more to it than that, but that's a good summary of the events." He sighed with relief; Jordyn was making this easier than he thought it would be. It was a lucky thing, that she had some belief in the paranormal going into this, like he did. But would she, and Alison, buy the possession? Would they be able to believe it was more than just a ghostly influence that left them all broken and Taylor in surgery? "How did you know that?"

"He wasn't himself on the phone," Jordyn replied. "He was so weird when Alison spoke to him. You know how devoted Taylor is to his kids. He barely seemed to care about them on the phone." She took a deep breath and let it out. "The ghost had some sort of hold on his mind."

"Yes," Dave confirmed. She was going to help him tell this story to Alison, he knew it. Jordyn was going to make all of this easier. "Yes, yes."

"Dave, you said you think someone did this to us? What do you mean?"

"Uh... it's just really weird, it's too much of a coincidence. The ghost is a really big fan of Nirvana. In fact... he's one of the scariest obsessed fans I've ever met," Dave said.

Jordyn had to laugh. "I'm sorry, honey, I'm sorry, it just..."

"It sounds crazy, I know. I told you it was going to sound insane. I don't know why someone would put a disturbed fan like that in our house, but it seems like that's what happened." Now Dave laughed. "Just wait 'til you hear who the ghost is."

"The ghost is someone?"

At first, Dave couldn't stop laughing; he sounded hysterical. Jordyn had to ask, "Dave, are you okay?"

The concern in her voice made him feel guilty. He just couldn't help it. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to scare you. We've all been through a lot. The ghost is someone you may have heard of, yeah."

"My poor baby... you must be so worried about Taylor."

The concern, the sympathy in her voice... Dave felt guilty again because he really did love her, he did, but... as he had admitted to Taylor, Kurt, and Chris, he loved Taylor more, more than his own wife. "I am, I can't help it."

"It's okay for you to be worried," she said, as if it was silly to suggest otherwise. "So who is our ghost?"

Sighing one last time, Dave replied, "Have you ever heard of Austin Nicholas Kelly?"

"Uh, maybe, wasn't he...?" Suddenly she fell silent, and was quiet for a long time. He heard her gasp, a drawn out, shocked gasp. _"The serial killer?"_

"Yeah." It was all he could manage at the moment.

"Dave, my God...! How...? Did he hurt anyone else?"

What he really wanted to do was break down and sob out every last detail, but this wasn't the time to do it; he was standing in a hospital waiting room and they all had things to do, important things. This wasn't the time to fall apart. "Chris and I are okay, pretty much. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

"Okay." She knew it was bad, he could tell by her tone. "But how did that _thing_ get inside the statue?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Dave declared. A new feeling swept over him, that of white hot anger. "Whoever is responsible for this put my family in danger. Whatever I have to do, I will make them pay."

"How are we going to figure that out? Do you think - " Jordyn paused as Alison began to talk to her. Dave could hear her voice, faintly. "Dave, I have to go. There's a flight and we have little time to catch it."

"You hurry, I'll see you later today. I love you. Give my love to the girls."

"I love you too. Be strong." And she hung up.

Dave held the phone to his ear a little longer, trying to get control of his swirling emotions, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. When Chris touched his arm, he nearly jumped out of his skin. "Fuck, Chris!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - " They looked at each other and broke out in nervous giggles. "I just wanted to tell you... well, can you apologize to Taylor for me? I won't be here when he comes out of surgery."

"Huh? Where are you going?"

"Dave, I gotta fly out to Hawaii and be with my family. Right now." Holding up his phone, he added, "I just talked to Cara about it."

Dave could hear the apology in his voice, but also the threatening hysteria. It was a feeling he knew well. "Oh, yeah. I get it."

Chris nodded, grateful that Dave seemed to understand. "I thought I was going to die, Dave. I didn't think I'd ever see my wife and my boys again. I care about Taylor and want to see him come out of this okay, but I've got to see them and hug them and hold them as soon as possible." His voice was shaking. "Please tell him I wish I could have been there when he woke up."

Dave pulled him into a hug. He suddenly wanted to see his children too, very badly, but it wasn't safe for them to come home. Not yet. And he couldn't leave Taylor. Taylor was not going to wake up from surgery and find no one there. "It's okay, buddy. You go. Taylor will understand."

Chris hugged him back, desperately holding back tears. "Thank you for understanding."

Patting his shoulders, Dave asked, "Can you do something for me first, though?"

"Sure, sure."

"Can you take me back to my house and help me clean up a little?" Dave looked down at himself and winced, not for the first time that day.


	18. Hell to Pay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grinning, Nicky hissed as he asked, "Did Taylor die? I hope he died in your arms while you cried, covered in his blood."

The house seemed eerily quiet when Dave and Chris returned. Oogly sat at the top of the stairs that led down to the art room. She looked up at Dave and gave a questioning, "Meow?"

"Yeah, I know. Things aren't quite right down there." Dave turned to Chris. "Would you go in that cupboard and get all the cleaning supplies we'll need? I'm gonna change my clothes."

Chris nodded, trying to smile. "Okay." He patted Dave's arm.

Dave filled the bathtub in the master bath, which was separate from the shower, with a few inches of cold water. He'd always been told that cold water would help get blood out. Then he stripped off his clothes and put them in the tub, soaking them through and through. Already he could see the blood coming out and the water turning red.

Using the sink, Dave washed off his stomach and thigh, which were tacky with the blood that had soaked through. He also thoroughly scrubbed his hands and under his nails. Blood got everywhere, didn't it? Once he was done, Dave had to hold tightly to the side of the sink and will himself not to break down again. It was hard, after washing so much of Taylor's blood out of his being.

He felt better after he'd put on fresh clothes. Dave got a plastic red laundry basket and went back to the tub to get his wet clothing.

Suddenly, he saw the head in the tub. The bloody head Nicky had shown to Jordyn. And then it was gone.

Dave gasped, stumbling back a few steps. His heart lurched in his chest. What the hell was that?

The vision did not happen again, and Dave was able to collect his clothes. He thought about what had just happened while pretreating the remains of the bloodstains on his shirt and jeans. By the time the clothing was in the wash, he had figured it out.

Nicky was trying to communicate with anyone in the house, just as he had before they brought out the Ouija board. He was feeling out in the dark.

Seething with anger, Dave walked down the stairs to the art room. Chris was already there. He avoided looking at the statue as he mopped up Taylor's blood. Most of it was gone, the mop water turned pink and sudsy. Dave was grateful to him for doing it.

"Thank you, Chris," he said, rubbing his shoulder. Unable to stop himself, Dave approached the statue.

"Careful," Chris warned.

"It's okay," Dave said. "He's trapped." He looked the statue in the eye.

After a few seconds, a trail of blue paint ran from its eye. Like a tear.

His face twisting into a snarl, Dave screamed, "CRY ME A RIVER, BITCH!" and punched the statue so hard, its head hit the wall behind it and left a dent in the plaster.

Chris came over to him, taking his arm. "Dave, don't do this. You'll break your hand. It's a plastic mannequin."

"Maybe he can still feel it," Dave mumbled.

"No, I don't think he can. Nicky's a ghost."

"He'll still know how I feel about his pathetic little tear." Breathing hard with anger, Dave looked the statue up and down. "Come on. Help me get this fucking thing out of here. I'm getting Nicky out of my house."

"Where are we taking him?" Chris asked.

"To 606. I'm going to lock him up in a closet until I figure out who did this to us."

"What about Kurt?"

The question took him aback; Dave had been so focused on what happened to Taylor... "Oh, right. The last time we saw him, he was fighting with Len..."

"And then he possessed Taylor," Chris added.

"Maybe I better try that meditation thing and go talk to him."

"Is that safe?" Chris warily eyed the statue. "Is Nicky wandering the white space now?"

"I have to find out. Kurt may need my help." Sitting down on the couch, Dave tried to calm his breathing. "Will you watch to make sure nothing happens to me?"

"Yeah. If you start struggling or anything, I'll pull you out." Once more, Chris eyed the statue. "The last thing I want to do right now is go in there with you and possibly see or speak to Nicky."

"I can understand that." It was the first thing Dave wanted to do, to find Nicky and knock his soul all over the mindscape.

Dave leaned back and closed his eyes. As he had done before, Kurt pulled him quickly into the mindscape. It had changed again. The big bed had been replaced by one with clean, light blue sheets. Most of the doors were hidden away. Kurt lay on the bed, his hands clasped on top of his stomach. He raised his head when Dave walked up. "Hey."

"Hey." Dave sat on the edge of the bed. Kurt sat up so they were eye-to-eye. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. Boddah kept Len from hurting me," Kurt explained. He finger-combed some of Dave's hair behind his ear. "How is Taylor?"

"He's in surgery to stop internal bleeding. They say he should be okay."

Looking down, Kurt said, "When I told Taylor that getting seriously hurt would drive Nicky out of his body, I never meant for him to stab himself." He looked up, eyes damp with threatening tears. "You know that, right? I was just trying to explain the advantages he had over Nicky in the fight."

"I know you weren't trying to hurt Taylor."

"I just wanted him to know about Nicky's lies and manipulation. It's very unlikely he ever would have killed Taylor no matter how many times he threatened to do it." Kurt shook his head. "You see what happened when Taylor stabbed himself."

"Nicky went right back in the statue." With a sigh, Dave asked, "Why didn't you tell me? If I'd known Nicky wasn't going to shoot Taylor, I would have fought him for the gun when I had the chance. I would have - "

"I didn't know, I didn't know until minutes before Taylor woke up! Yes, there are things I've known all along, but that wasn't one of them," Kurt replied, frustrated and feeling guilty nonetheless. "I tell you things as I'm told them myself, and as I'm allowed to. You don't know how many times I wanted to tell you how to wake Taylor up, but Boddah said it was too soon, that he'd take me out of here and I wouldn't be able to help you anymore. He's very serious about interfering with fate."

"Well, he's a reaper. I guess he would be." Dave pulled Kurt into a hug. "I'm sorry I got mad. You couldn't help the things you didn't know and couldn't tell me."

Kurt hugged him back. "I'm just glad you all got out of this alive."

They eventually broke the embrace and just looked at each other for a moment. Unable to resist, Dave leaned in and kissed Kurt, a kiss that lasted longer than he meant for it to. He briefly wondered to himself if this could be considered cheating, messing around with the ghost of his former lover. "Sorry, I just can't forget what it was like to be with you, and... I..."

Kurt shook his head. "You don't have to say it. I know that I devastated you when I killed myself." He looked down, chewing on his bottom lip. "I devastated a lot of people."

"You're making up for it, Kurt. You really are. I can tell just by speaking with you that you've grown a great deal in the years that have passed."

With a little pride on his face, Kurt raised his head. "I have. I've learned so much from making amends with the people I hurt with my suicide." He cradled Dave's face in his hand. "You're one of the last."

Dave rubbed his cheek against Kurt's fingers. "So what happens now?"

"Now? We find the witch who put the spell on this statue and get her to help us send Nicky back to Hell."

"Why do we need her help?"

"Because it's her spell. If we work against it without knowing exactly what she did, it could fuck everything up. Nicky could go free."

Dave leaned back, looking up and sighing. "How are we ever going to find her?"

"Boddah says you know someone with latent psychic abilities. Someone who could read the statue, give you a lot of information." Kurt explained. "Do you know who that is?"

"Uh, I think so. If I moved the statue out of my house, would that cause any problems?"

"Wherever the statue goes, I go with it. My best advice is to get the psychic to read the statue first, and use the information she gives you to safeguard this space while we work to give Nicky a one way ticket back where he belongs."

Dave nodded. "What do you mean by safeguard this space?"

Uncomfortable at the thought, Kurt squirmed a little. "Nicky's caged, but he's still here. He'll keep trying to communicate with anyone who comes around. That's unless you shut him up."

"It concerns me to leave him here, in my house."

"Of course, but if you move him now, it's going to mess with the spell. Just get the statue read, and safeguard it, and then it can be moved." Kurt swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Once we send Nicky back, we'll only have a few days before this space collapses, and I go back into limbo. So let's make sure we take care of everything first."

Dave nodded again. "I better get busy, then." He looked at Kurt. "What happens to you in limbo?"

"I start looking for forgiveness again. Got a few left."

Dave didn't ask who; he thought he already knew. "Before I go, take me to Nicky's cage. I have a few things I need to say to him."

The cage that held Nicky was covered with carved symbols, ones Dave didn't recognize, ones he had seen before but didn't know the meaning of, and some different types of crystals. Nicky paced the cage, his hands balled into fists, his breath coming quick and angry. When he saw Dave and Kurt approaching, he grabbed the bars and shook his body against them. "You let me out of here! Let me out!"

"You know that's not going to happen."

Grinning, Nicky hissed as he asked, "Did Taylor die? I hope he died in your arms while you cried, covered in his blood. I saw a glimpse of bloody clothes in your bathtub."

Dave shook his head. "No, he's alive. He bravely drove you out and he survived."

"You know what? It doesn't matter." The evil smile on Nicky's face sent chills up Dave's spine. "Someone else will try to communicate with me. I'll possess them and this time, I'll live again. And I'll find Taylor and cut his guts out. Then I'll come get you and cut you into pieces. Your wife will arrive home and find your head on the kitchen counter to greet her."

Dave didn't want to show fear to this psycho, but he couldn't help but wince. "No. No, you're not going to do any of those things. I'm going to find a way to take away any power that you have and send you back where you belong."

"Fine." Nicky pushed himself off the bars and began to pace again. "You made your choice. You could have been mine, but you'd rather die. We'll see who reaches their goal first."

Dave and Kurt said nothing else to him. They left the bubble in which he was trapped and returned to the safety of the big bed.

"What about all those demons? Where are they?" Dave asked as they reached the safe space.

Kurt explained, "Most of them have gone back to Hell. Len is still here because he linked himself with Nicky's soul. He's been caged too. Len can't do much to anyone as long as Nicky is trapped."

"Good deal. So once I get this psychic here, what do we do to safeguard the place?"

A few minutes later, Dave opened his eyes and sat up. He saw Chris scrubbing at the bloodstains on the chaise lounge with a brush. "Hey, thanks."

"Hey. What happened? Is Kurt okay?"

Dave explained everything he and Kurt had discussed. "I don't pretend to know how Witchcraft and spells work, but if a spell got Nicky in there to begin with, then a spell can take him out."

"Makes sense, I guess." Chris used a towel to blot up the fabric cleaner. "Um, can you move? I need to clean that cushion."

Dave looked behind him at the middle, back couch cushion. "Why?"

Chris guiltily looked at the cushion he'd rubbed himself against while Dave and Taylor made love. "I was kinda... sweaty sometimes... while I was lying here." He avoided Dave's gaze.

Even after twenty more minutes of cleaning, Dave still wasn't sure he wanted to keep the two pieces of furniture upon which he and Chris had been chained. "I may just chuck them both."

Chris checked his watch. "I really need to catch my flight. Will you be okay if I leave?"

"Yeah. I'm going to get started on what Kurt and I talked about. If I can get a hold of my psychic, I won't be alone in this house for long," Dave replied.

They said their goodbyes and Chris left for the airport. Dave took out his cell phone.

She answered on the second ring. "Petra? Hi, this Dave Grohl. Do you have a minute?"


	19. On the Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane... but it's all completely true. I was there. I experienced it. Everything I'm about to tell you, I believe it, and Chris believes it, and I can guarantee you Taylor believes it."

"It's in through here," Dave said, and stepped aside so Petra could enter the house.

She had been in the art room before, at a couple of Dave's block parties. On the phone, though, he hadn't told her very much, just that his house was still haunted and he needed someone to do a reading. Dave wanted to know he could trust what she said, that she was the real deal.

Petra stepped through the back door into the kitchen. She put her sunglasses up on her head, holding back some of the blonde hair that hadn't made it into a twisty ponytail. Dave knew she was younger than him, but still in her forties. There were rumors that she and Eddie had met on a Russian mail-order bride website, but they simply referred to it as a dating site.

"Do you feel anything?" he asked.

"I don't know if it works that quickly, Dave," Petra replied. Her voice still held a light Russian accent.

"Sorry. I don't really know how it works, except for what I've seen on TV and such. When I asked if you knew anyone from that magick store who might be able to read my house, I didn't think you'd say you."

"You had your suspicions." She looked around the kitchen, lightly touching the edges of the counter.

"Well, most people would have bought me a Parker Brothers Ouija board from the toy store. You got me a very special board."

"Yes. It was a hunch. You needed a powerful board to make contact with your ghost." Petra looked up from the counter. "You didn't tell me what happened."

Dave shrugged. "Things didn't go well. I need to make things safe in here again, before my kids come home from Hawaii."

Nodding, Petra looked toward the door that led down into the art room. "My grandmother was a hedge witch," she said. "People from all over the neighborhood came to her for home remedies, spells, protection against curses... hangover remedies..."

Dave couldn't help but snicker.

Petra smiled. "She told me I had some amount of psychic ability. That I could feel things other people couldn't. I get impressions by touching things. I don't know, sometimes it works." She went to the door to the art room and ran a hand over the painted wood. "You said the ghost came in with your new statue?"

"Yeah."

"Then it will be down here." Putting her hand on the door knob, Petra started to turn it.

"Wait!" Dave called. She looked back at him. "Just be careful, okay? You have to be really careful how you communicate with him."

Petra eyed him critically, as if she could read him too. "You didn't say the prayer that came with the board before you used it, did you?"

Feeling guilty, Dave shook his head.

"You opened a door that was hard to close."

He nodded.

"It's still a little open." Petra turned the knob. "Don't worry, I know how to protect us." Stepping through the doorway, she walked confidently down the stairs.

By the time they got to the art room and stood before the statue, some of Petra's confidence had left her. She shuddered just looking at it. "My lord, Dave... what have you got in your house? Such rage..."

"The ghost is in there."

"Who is this ghost?" And then, "What did he do?"

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Dave replied, "He killed people."

This raised her eyebrows. "You have the ghost of a murderer in your house?"

"Yeah."

"How did he get here?"

"I don't know."

Petra turned back to the statue, reaching in her purse and taking out a wide spool of white ribbon. "I can see that you're a very dangerous ghost. I don't dare speak to you until we set a few ground rules." Clearing her throat, Petra said, "I call upon the power of the All and my family's tradition of witchblood to harness this unquiet spirit. Charge this ribbon with white, protective energy in my family's name." She unwound enough ribbon until she could tie one of the statue's wrists with a knot, and then run the ribbon to the other wrist, binding them together. As she did this, Petra said, "I am speaking to the threatening spirit inside this statue, the one who has taken lives. I bind you from doing anymore harm to the inhabitants of this house, and everyone they love, and anyone else who may enter here. I bind you from acting out any violent impulses. I bind you from leaving your prison until such time as we send you away, and it will definitely not be by possessing the living." She knelt to tie his feet together. When that was done, she wound the ribbon around his head several times, covering his mouth. "I bind you from speaking any harm. You will only speak when spoken to, and you will stop talking when told. You are bound by these terms until such time as we deem it safe to let you go, and then you will depart in peace and go where you are told." Petra cut the last of the ribbon from the spool and stood back. "That should do it. My grandmother gave that spell to me."

"I don't think you left anything out."

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and put her hand on the statue's chest. "Do you have something to tell us?" Dave watched her squeeze her eyes shut harder, hoping the spell she had done would be as effective as she seemed to think it would be. "I won't help you," Petra said, speaking in a deeper voice. "You can go fuck yourself, Dave."

Dave swallowed any spit he had in his mouth. "Nicky?"

"Uh huh."

"Why wouldn't you help us? Don't you want revenge on the person who trapped you in that statue to begin with?" Dave asked.

Petra laughed, all snicker and no mirth. "Did you ever think that maybe I was working with them, that we had an agreement?"

This dislodged a memory from Saturday night, when Dave was passing between consciousness and the soothing blackness of the pills Nicky had slipped in his drink. He remembered the feeling of Nicky through Taylor's body hugging him around the chest and thanking someone. _"Oh God, how did you do this? It's fucking Dave Grohl. Oh thank you, thank you."_ Everything everyone had been saying about this being suspicious was right. The statue, and Nicky, had been deliberately put in his house. "You made a deal with someone, to get you in here."

"Why Dave, that's crazy. How would such a thing even happen?"

Dave wanted to punch him again, just for the sarcastic, smug tone of his voice. "I don't know, you tell me."

Gasping, Petra backed up, taking her hand off the statue. "No, no, Nicholas. You can't get in. Stay! ...Stay." She looked at Dave. "He's a slippery little bastard."

"Was he possessing you just now?!"

"No. Just channeling. Speaking through me." Petra furrowed her brow in confusion and touched her ear. "I'm hearing something else." She looked around, and then down at the chaise lounge. "Oh. Hello. You look... somewhat familiar." Her eyes panned to the left and then went up, and up, until she was looking at a figure at least eight feet tall. Petra's eyes filled with fear and shock. "What is that? Dave, what is with your house?"

At first, he couldn't figure it out. "What do you see?"

"It's a very tall figure in a cloak, covering its face... I think it has a beak."

Dave sighed with relief. "Oh, that's just Boddah. He's a reaper. A friend. He won't hurt you." Looking down at the chaise lounge, he said, "I think I know who you were speaking to before."

"I, um... I recognize him. It's your friend. It's Kurt Cobain." She touched Dave's arm. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I knew he was here."

"He and the reaper are in some sort of pocket dimension created by the statue... by the magick that surrounds it. A limbo dimension. He's pointing over here... he's pointing to..." Petra walked over to the mirror that was hung across a corner of the room. The mirror that had reflected Taylor when Nicky possessed him, and shown them all a vision of Kurt and Taylor with Nicky's grandmother. She touched it. "This mirror... it's surrounded by a cloud of purple smoke. It's the magickal signature of the witch who enchanted it." Then she looked at the statue. "This has the same magickal signature."

"Then the same witch did both spells."

"Right."

"Then the artist of the mirror frame could be this witch," Dave surmised.

"It's a great place to start. And there's something else."

"What?"

With a sigh, Petra told him, "Besides the witch, you're going to need something that belonged to the ghost to send him away. The spell won't be very effective without it."

"How am I supposed to get something that belonged to Nicky?" Dave asked, clearly frustrated.

At first, Petra shrugged, but then turned toward Kurt. "Kurt says you already have it. That you'll figure it out."

Dave ran his hands through his hair, putting some of it behind his ears. "Does Kurt have anything else to say?"

Listening, Petra eventually replied, "He said it would be safe to enter this pocket dimension for a little while longer, especially with my new spell putting a leash on Nicholas. Just be careful what you ask him, because once he has been spoken to, he may speak." She listened a bit more, and had to giggle, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. "He also says your moustache tickles him when he kisses you."

At first Dave looked surprised, then he had to laugh too, and shake his head. "Oh, Kurt. I've missed you. I really have."

"He missed you too." Petra listened to the voice that only she could currently hear, and then said, "You will soon receive a dream that will tell you everything you need to know. Kurt will be allowed to bring it to you."

Dave nodded. "Okay. Thank you. And thanks, Kurt, for all your help with everything." Dave stroked the chaise lounge. It felt cold as death. "See you again soon."

*****

When the doctor came looking for Taylor's family, Dave was sitting in the waiting room, reading a book he got from the used book store. He hoped the book, called _Devious Smile: The Crimes of Austin Nicholas Kelly_ , would reveal to him what belonging of Nicky's he already had. The phone calls inquiring how Taylor was doing had stopped, albeit temporarily, giving him some time to breathe.

The doctor spotted Dave. "Hello again."

"Doctor Curry." Dave got up and shook the doctor's hand. "How did it go?"

"The surgery went well. We took care of the internal bleeding and confirmed that he didn't hit any vital organs. He's being brought into a room now. Is Mrs. Hawkins here yet?"

"No, but her plane should be landing soon."

"She may not make it before he's out for the night. We, of course, wake patients up in recovery, but once he gets to his room, he's going to sleep into tomorrow." Dr. Curry again offered his hand. Dave shook it. "The nurses will show you to his room."

"Thank you, Dr. Curry."

The attendants wheeled Taylor on his hospital bed by the waiting room; Dave followed along beside it. "Hey Taylor. How do you feel?"

Taylor groggily tried to focus his eyes on the person speaking to him. "Huh? Oh... hi Dave." He yawned. "I'm sleepy."

"He's not going to be much for conversation today," one of the nurses said with a grin. "He'll probably sleep for the rest of the day."

As if to prove her point, Taylor closed his eyes and grew quiet.

They got Taylor settled in his room. Dave took his hand and squeezed it. "I'll bring Alison in here to give you a good night kiss once she arrives, okay?"

"Mm? Good night kiss?" Taylor puckered and made a couple of kissing sounds.

The nurses laughed fondly.

Spotting the bag of urine hanging off the side of the bed, Dave joked, "Hey look Taylor, you've got your own personal stash of lemonade!"

Smacking his lips, Taylor said, "Mmmm. Lemonade." He went quiet, nodding off.

The nurses snickered and shook their heads. "Now, now," one of them said. "He's too weak to defend himself."

Dave stayed in the room a while longer to make sure Taylor wasn't going to wake up and ask for anything. As he was about to step out and check for messages, his phone rang.

It was Jordyn. "We're here. How's Taylor?"

"Sleeping. They just brought him out of recovery a half hour ago." Dave stuffed his book into a jacket pocket. "The surgery went well. Things look good."

Jordyn relayed this information to Alison. "Alison wants to visit him before we go back to the house."

"No problem. I'm on my way to get you." Checking Taylor one more time, Dave headed toward the parking lot.

"Um, I know you wanted to save Alison the worry, so I waited 'til we got here, but... I did tell her about the ghost."

Dave couldn't help but roll his eyes. "What did she say?"

"He wants to know what you said."

Alison called to the phone, "I said you guys got really drunk and scared yourselves with your ghost stories. We're lucky you're not all in the hospital."

Sighing, Dave realized it really didn't matter. He would prove it to them. "Ha ha. We'll talk about it when we get back to the house."

Dave reluctantly exited the hospital, leaving Taylor in their hands for the time being.

*****

When Alison saw Taylor asleep in the hospital bed with the IV and other things attached to his body, she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. "My poor Bunny Foofoo." She peeked under the sheet at his bandaged abdomen. It all became more real to her at that moment. "Oh, Taylor." Alison smoothed his hair back off his face.

Taylor did not wake up, but did make a soft noise.

"They said he'd be pretty out of it until the morning," Dave commented. "Why don't we go back to the house and get something to eat, and I can explain all this ghost stuff?"

Alison nodded, obviously holding back tears.

Taking her hand and patting it, Jordyn said, "You're staying with us tonight."

"Thank you. I don't know what I'd do with myself if I had to rattle around in that house alone." Alison went back to Taylor's side and leaned over him. "Hey. Baby? Good night kiss?"

There came a quiet, "Mm, night," and Taylor softly kissed back, then was asleep again. He hadn't opened his eyes throughout the entire exchange.

"Surgery takes a lot out of you," she remarked, and followed her friends out of the hospital room.

Dave, putting his arm around Jordyn, joked with her, "How come you don't have any pet names for me?"

Smiling, she said, "Do you wanna be Bunny Foofoo too?"

*****

Jordyn and Alison were both looking at him, perplexed, and he didn't know where to start. It certainly was a strange scene. In the kitchen where they sat, eating a quick dinner, there wasn't a glass cup to be found. (Nicky had broken them all.) Downstairs, there was a $20,000 statue tied up with white ribbon and two holes in the wall that hadn't been there before. In the bedroom, the suitcases they had helped Dave and Taylor pack were open and thoroughly rifled through, and the gun usually kept locked up in the nightstand lay out beside the bed. One of the oddest things to Jordyn was that someone had obviously cleaned her Lalique vase to a gleaming shine, where before it had grown dusty. Why on Earth...?

Dave tried to start at the beginning. "What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane... but it's all completely true. I was there. I experienced it. Everything I'm about to tell you, I believe it, and Chris believes it, and I can guarantee you Taylor believes it."

Oogly jumped up on the table and looked at him. "Meow."

He couldn't help but grin; it was like the cat was saying _I was there too,_ and she wanted to offer her support. Dave stroked her back. "All I ask is that you listen with an open mind."

The girls looked at each other and shrugged. "Okay."

"We did make contact with the ghost. At first, he was being vague and avoided telling us his full name, just that his name was Nicky. Shortly after, though, the things he said became threatening and scary. That he was here and he wasn't going anywhere, and there wasn't a thing we could do to make him leave. I started yelling at him, telling him to go, and I turned and saw... Taylor had his hands on the Ouija pointer, like this." Dave imitated the positioning of Taylor's hands on the planchette. "I saw his reflection in the mirror, you know the one hung across the corner?"

Jordyn nodded.

"And Taylor wasn't alone. There was this transparent cloud-like thing floating behind him, with its arms around him. It looked like a person, only ghostly, you know?"

Alison visibly shuddered.

"When I looked straight at Taylor, no ghost. But in the mirror... I didn't realize what was happening at the time, but... uh... You know how we talked about the ghost influencing Taylor to not act like himself?" Dave asked.

"Uh huh."

"The ghost actually _possessed_ Taylor."

There was a long pause. Finally, "What?"

Even Oogly looked up at him. "Meow?"

Dave glanced around the table at all the confused, horrified faces. He wondered briefly what it would take for Jordyn to have him committed. "And on that note, I need another beer."


	20. New Way Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't believe that someone who killed eight people was inside my husband's head, controlling him. It's terrifying."
> 
> Dave played her words over and over in his mind, and they didn't change. His blood ran cold. Chills moved up his back. Eight people, eight people, eight people...

He told them the story, exactly how it had happened. He told them about Nicky drugging him. He told them about waking up handcuffed down to the chaise lounge. He told them about Taylor acting like someone else, and the dream he had of Kurt, but that it really wasn't a dream. Kurt was here, in a pocket dimension, with Boddah. And how Taylor's eyes changed color.

He told them about the spell that had been put on the statue, and finding out who the ghost was, and how someone had put him here, someone had made a deal. He told them how Chris got involved, and Nicky's threats of violence. Finally, he told them how Taylor had heroically driven Nicky back into the statue, and how they rushed him to the hospital to save his life.

The only detail Dave left out of the story for now was what the group of men spent most of their time doing from Saturday night to Monday morning: the sex. First, he had to get Jordyn and Alison to accept the possession.

When he finished, Dave put his second beer down on the table. "What do you think?" he asked.

The two women looked at each other with troubled expressions. "It's certainly a very... elaborate story..." Alison commented.

"Dave, you've got to have some creative talent to be able to write songs and everything, but... to make up something like this... you simply wouldn't. Not about your friends and bandmates." Jordyn sighed. "But it's just so unbelievable."

"Babe, I know. I know it is. But it happened."

His face was so earnest, so desperate to be believed. "The thing that scares me the most about all this is you really believe the story you just told us. You really and truly believe it."

Dave, feeling a little helpless, just nodded.

"Is there any chance that 'Nicky' slipped you some LSD?" Alison asked.

She didn't believe him. Alison thought he'd lost his mind. "I can prove it to you," he declared. It was his last shot.

"How?"

Now it was Dave's turn to be smug. "All you have to do is go down into the art room and fall asleep near the statue. We'll go to the limbo dimension where Kurt and Boddah are, and you can meet everybody. Including Nicky."

The women looked at each other again. "Lord knows I could use a nap," Alison said with a shrug.

'Okay," Jordyn agreed. "I'm pretty exhausted myself after that long flight." Silently to herself, she hoped the story would turn out to be true, as crazy as it was. Otherwise, her husband might be losing his mind.

Alison took the couch, Jordyn the chaise lounge, and Dave leaned himself back in a recliner near the enchanted mirror. The only warning he gave them was not to talk to Nicky. "Let me handle that."

Alison nodded off first, his wife second, but sleep would not come to Dave easily. He feared that for some reason, it wouldn't work, and the wives wouldn't be able to get into the mindscape with Kurt. That he wouldn't be able to prove a thing to them. He didn't realize that he'd fallen asleep until he heard Boddah's chatter.

Amazed with what she was seeing, Jordyn walked up to the light blue bed and addressed the young blonde man who sat up as she approached. He seemed just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. "Are you Kurt Cobain?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

Jordyn's expression hardened a bit, any trace of a smile disappearing. "You're the man who broke my husband's heart."

Dave encountered Alison first by following the noise Boddah was making. She stood in front of the reaper, looking at it with fear and wonder. "You're just as Dave described you. But that's the power of suggestion, isn't it?"

Boddah actually shrugged.

Coming up behind her, Dave put a hand on Alison's shoulder. She shrieked and whirled on him with wide eyes. "Jesus Christ, Dave!"

"Sorry, sorry. Uh, that's Boddah."

"I gathered."

"Boddah, I'm a little turned around in here. Which way is Kurt?"

Raising one bony hand, Boddah pointed off to the left.

"Thanks, man."

He steered Alison off in that direction. As they walked away from the reaper, she kept looking back, afraid it was following them. "That thing's a little creepy."

"Well, he is an agent of death."

They approached the bed where Kurt and Jordyn were talking; Dave noticed that the look on Kurt's face was troubled. "I see you two have met."

Kurt tried to put on a smile. "We have." His face suddenly lit up, amused and delighted. "You got yourself a spitfire here, Dave. She just gave me what for for taking myself out of this world. I deserved that."

Jordyn gave Dave a look, one he knew meant there was more to that story. They could talk about it later. "She keeps me on my toes." Touching her shoulder again, Dave said, "This is Taylor's wife, Alison."

Kurt nodded to her.

"And you're the ghost of Kurt Cobain, right?" Alison was still using a sarcastic, disbelieving tone.

"That I am." Kurt looked up at Dave. "She doesn't believe you, does she?"

Alison spoke first. "She's skeptical, yes."

Grinning, Kurt asked, "How exactly would Dave accomplish this?" He spread out his arms to indicate the mindscape. "It doesn't impress you at all that you're all having the same 'dream' right now?"

Alison frowned. "When I wake up, I'll ask Jordyn what she dreamed about. Then I'll know if that's really true."

"What else would it take to prove it to you?"

She thought about it a moment. "Dave told us the name of this ghost, and I didn't recognize the name. Court TV wasn't something I watched much back then. I have no idea what this Nicky guy looked like. Once I wake up, I'll Google him and if the faces match, I would have to accept that everything Dave told us really happened, and that he really does have the soul of a serial killer trapped inside some sort of limbo dimension. I wouldn't have any reason to put it off on the power of suggestion since Dave didn't even describe him."

Kurt seemed impressed. "You gotta admit, Dave, it's a good idea."

He just hoped Alison wouldn't find a way to weasel out of it when she saw that the Nicky in the cage looked exactly like the pictures on the internet. "Will you just show us where the cage is again? I get so turned around in here."

"Certainly."

Nicky stood at the bars of his cage, like he had been waiting for them the entire time. He wore a mischievous expression. As he looked at that face, Dave tried to reassure himself that he could keep control of what Nicky said. Nicky could only speak when spoken to, and had to stop talking when told to shut up. It was obvious that Nicky wanted to speak when he saw the two women. He wanted to speak very badly.

Nicky was assuming he knew who these women were. Dave wasn't going to help him by confirming it. "What is your name?"

"Austin Nicholas Kelly." He looked at Jordyn, then Alison. "But you can call me Nicky."

"Did you possess Taylor Hawkins?"

"Yes, I did. I wanted you all to myself, but - "

"Shut up," Dave told him, trying to stay calm. He would tell Jordyn and Alison about the sex, he and Taylor would do it together, but he didn't want them to find out this way. Not from Nicky. "How did you take control of Taylor's body?"

"First you tell me to shut up, then you want me to talk. You've got me so confused, I don't know what to do," Nicky said, amused with himself.

"Will you just answer the goddamn question?" Dave snapped. If Nicky confirmed the facts Dave had told the two women, maybe then they would believe him.

But Nicky wasn't about to help him. Nicky wanted to have some fun. He had an idea of what Jordyn looked like from the pictures around the house, but he pretended he didn't know which woman was her by talking straight to Alison. "Does he get forceful like this when the two of you are in bed with that His and Hers lube?"

Alison looked confused and said, "Huh?", but Jordyn cried, "How do you know about that?!", her eyes going wide.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Dave yelled at him. Kurt put a hand over his eyes, almost doing a slow burn.

Pointing between herself and Jordyn, Alison said, "I'm not - "

"Alison, please don't talk to him," Dave begged. "He's just going to say shit to try to upset us." He addressed Jordyn. "Nicky looked through the drawers in our bedroom."

She shifted around like the question had made her uncomfortable. "It's really weird, to think he was in Taylor's body while he did all these things."

Nicky grinned at them, satisfied with himself.

Dave sighed. "I'll give you one more chance. Are you going to answer the question without adding some cute little comment?"

Instead of saying anything about this second question, Nicky simply answered the first one. "I used a spell that was put on the mannequin by a witch to take control of Taylor's body. You just have to learn how to twist magick to use it to your advantage."

"And you used it to put Taylor to sleep."

"Yes, I did. So I could use him to do _whatever I wanted_ to you," he said to Dave.

Dave winced and closed his eyes for a moment. This was a bad idea. He hoped the small amount of information they had gained from Nicky would be enough, because he wasn't going to ask him anything else. "Okay, we're - "

Nicky cut him off before he could tell him to stop talking and quickly said to Alison, "Did your husband tell you he was Oh?"

Kurt groaned.

Both women looked at Dave with shocked expressions. "How does he know about that?!" Alison cried.

Right after, Jordyn shrieked, "Taylor is Oh?!"

That was it. Growling loudly, Dave ran up to the cage and grabbed Nicky by the shirt and hair and began to yank him into the bars as hard as he could. He immediately found out that he could hurt a ghost here when blood came out of Nicky's nose, but even though Dave was hurting him, he still laughed... and laughed... and laughed.

"Shut up, shut up, fucking shut up!" Dave screamed.

Afraid Nicky would hurt him, Kurt pulled Dave away from the cage. Dave let him go. Nicky fell back on the floor and did nothing to stop his soul from bleeding; he just looked at Dave and chuckled darkly.

"Taylor is Oh? Taylor is Oh?!" Jordyn kept saying.

Dave looked around. Alison was gone. Then he also woke up when he felt Alison shaking him.

"Wake up, goddamnit, wake up!" she said.

The sound of Nicky's snickers followed Dave into his waking. He blinked up at Alison, and glanced over at Jordyn, who was just waking up too. Both women looked upset. "Tell me what you know about Oh," Alison said. "How long have you known?"

Near tears, Jordyn said, "You had sex with Taylor?"

Dave put the footrest down on the recliner so he could fully sit up. "I'll tell you everything. Okay? But check Google first, while Nicky's face is still fresh in your mind."

Alison had almost forgotten about that. She got out her phone and opened the internet browser. After making sure she spelled his name right, Alison looked at the pictures that came up. Her eyes went wide and she put a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God. It's him. It's the guy from the cage." Her eyes filled with tears. "That animal was in control of my husband?"

Dave nodded.

From what Jordyn had said, her dream matched Alison's. She couldn't deny it anymore. "This is real. The possession, the ghost, it all really happened." Alison burst into tears. "My poor Taylor."

Jordyn went over and sat next to her, hugging her and rubbing her back. Dave watched them, feeling helpless and a little useless. What could he do to make any of this better? "He's going to be okay," he offered. "Doctors fixed him right up."

"But what about his mental state?" Alison sobbed. "Can you imagine what it could do to a person to be possessed by a serial killer?" She suddenly gasped. "Oh God. You said he left the house at least twice. How do we know he didn't... hurt someone?"

"Nicky got really mad at me when I suggested this was possible. I didn't want him to leave the house because I feared he might hurt somebody. He said he wouldn't do that because he didn't want to bring attention to himself. And also that he was discerning and didn't want to kill just anyone." Dave thought about how Nicky looked when he came back from the store. "I never saw any signs that he had hurt anyone. No blood or anything."

"Oh, what a smart serial killer he is, then," Alison said sarcastically.

Jordyn tried to comfort her too. "We'll check the paper. See if anyone went missing over the weekend."

That only brought on fresh tears. Alison covered her face with her hands. "What if this animal killed someone? My baby will be blamed." She wailed out, "My Bunny Foofoo."

Jordyn held her again. It took Alison a minute to get control of herself. "He said he wasn't going to hurt anyone?" she asked Dave, grasping at any hope she could get.

Nodding, he replied, "Yeah, that's what he said."

It would have to do. Alison took the tissue Jordyn offered her and blew her nose. "Okay. I'm going to try to stop thinking about it, then."

Dave kind of hoped that this conversation had made a good enough distraction from the things Nicky had brought up so they could discuss Oh and everything that came with him tomorrow, but he should have known he'd have no such luck. Jordyn said, "Good. Then can we discuss Oh?"

Dave cringed. "I'd rather discuss all this with Taylor present."

"But, I can't wait. I need to talk about it now." She turned to Alison. "How long have you known that Taylor was Oh? How long have you known that our husbands _had sex_?"

Alison put up her hands defensively. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but Taylor swore me to secrecy. I thought he should tell you both."

"Why did he want to keep it a secret?"

"He joined the Foo Fighters shortly after. Taylor didn't want Dave to think that the reason he slept with him was to get into the band. Taylor slept with him because he wanted to, but he knew how bad it might look to Dave." Sighing, Alison continued, "You don't know how good it feels to have that secret out. It's too big of a secret to keep from someone, but I swore I wouldn't tell."

"When did Taylor tell you?" Dave asked.

"Shortly before we got married. I had met you, and Taylor said he wanted to get more of his sexual past out in the open. And he told me he'd slept with you, but you didn't know he was the guy you slept with." She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. "You were too wasted."

Covering her face with her hands, Jordyn mumbled, "Oh my God, oh my God..." She dropped her hands into her lap. "Years ago, Dave told me about what things were like after his first marriage ended and how upset and depressed he was for months; his band was falling apart and Jennifer was leaving him, and one night, he met this blonde in a record store who only wanted to be known as Oh. But like you said, Dave was too wasted to really remember his face. And then not too long after, Taylor joined the band and the Foo Fighters started to come back together again." She gestured to her husband. "Dave told me that he thought Oh was good luck and he wished he could find him. And you're telling me that guy is Taylor? Holy shit."

Dave looked at his wife with guilt on his face; she was pretty blown away by this revelation. "I was just as shocked as you are."

"When did you find out, Dave?"

He scoffed. "When Nicky told me. He said he had access to Taylor's memories. He only did it to fuck with my head," Dave said. "One of his favorite things to do."

Alison, shaking her head, growled, "What a fucking sicko. I can't believe that someone who killed eight people was inside my husband's head, controlling him. It's terrifying."

Dave played her words over and over in his mind, and they didn't change. His blood ran cold. Chills moved up his back. _Eight people, eight people, eight people..._

"Dave?" Jordyn didn't like the shock and horror she saw on his face.

He asked, "Alison, how many people did you say Nicky killed?"

"Eight." She held up her phone. "That's what it says on the internet."

Grabbing his book about Nicky's crimes, Dave checked the back cover. He hadn't gotten very far into the book, but the summary on the back told him what he needed to know.

_...murdered eight men over a period of ten years..._

He sat down hard on the couch. Nicky's words filled his head.

_"Eleven. It was eleven. "_

"Dave, what is the matter? Your face has gone completely white." Jordyn sat down next to him, touching his hand.

When he spoke, his voice shook, no matter how hard he tried to keep it steady. "I'm going to tell you something Nicky told me, but I don't want you to panic."

"How can you expect me not to panic when you say it like that?" Alison said, close to yelling.

Putting up a defensive hand, Dave took a shaky breath. "Nicky told me he killed eleven people."

Almost instantly, Alison began to breathe way too hard and fast, on her way to hyperventilating. Her breaths were shrill, hysterical. "Then he used Taylor's body to... to... three more... oh God..."

Jordyn went over and took her by the arms. "Now we don't know that, Alison."

"Not for sure, but it looks pretty bad, doesn't it?"

Dave put his head in his hands.

Jordyn got Alison to stand up and go with her to the couch. There she attempted to get her to calm down. "Please, take deep breaths for me, Alison. You're going to hyperventilate."

Stroking his beard nervously, Dave tried to remember what Nicky had told him when. "Wait. Nicky possessed Taylor on Saturday night. He told me he had murdered eleven people the next morning. Yeah, Nicky did go out that night to buy the handcuffs and the rope, but he couldn't have killed three people and hidden the bodies in a few hours." Dave laughed at this ludicrous idea. "It took him ten years to kill eight. He must've taken three other lives in those ten years that the authorities don't know about. That kind of thing happens all the time with serial killers."

Alison was nodding. "Do you think that's all it is?"

"That makes a lot of sense," Jordyn agreed.

Suddenly, Alison burst into tears again. "But what if Dave is wrong?"

"Oh, Alison, shhhh..." Jordyn hugged her. "You can talk to Taylor in the morning and he'll tell you himself he didn't hurt anyone."

Alison said nothing else on the subject, just crying until she felt she was done. Then she declared, "I can't sleep here as long as that monster is in this house. I want to sleep in Taylor's room so I can be there when he wakes up."

"Okay, I can fully understand that. Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No, I'll be okay by myself for the night. Just, can I borrow a blanket?"

The women got up to go find one. Dave said, "Wait."

They stopped and looked back.

"Before we take you back to the hospital, you need to know about something Nicky did and how Taylor explained it to the doctor. There will probably be questions."

"Okay."

Dave explained, "Nicky went out for a short time on Sunday afternoon. He didn't want Chris and I to plot against him while he was gone, so he drugged us with half a Morphecil so we'd only be out for a couple hours. I woke up to him doing this to me." Unbuttoning a few buttons on his shirt, Dave pulled it to one side so they could see the red scratchy lines on his chest that spelled _MINE._

Both women came closer. "Oh my God..." Jordyn exclaimed. "Did he do that with a knife?"

Dave nodded.

"My poor baby." Jordyn gave him a kiss.

"Monday morning, Nicky was trying to prove how much he cared for me, so he took a knife and carved _YOURS_ into his arm."

Alison gasped. "Taylor's arm."

Nodding again, Dave added, "The doctor is going to have questions about it. Does your husband want to hurt himself? Shit like that. Obviously, Taylor couldn't tell them the truth, so he told them he had a fight with you over the phone on Sunday night, got drunk, and carved that word into his arm to prove his love for you." He shrugged. "It was the best we could come up with on the spur of the moment."

"No, it's a decent story. Certainly better than the ghost did it." Scoffing, Alison shook her head. "Can you imagine how that would go?"

"Not well."

While the girls prepared to go back to the hospital, Dave examined the wounds to his chest in the mirror. He put some antiseptic on them and was about to apply a gauze pad when the idea occurred to him for the first time.

_MINE._

Could Dave himself act as the belonging of Nicky's they would need to make the spell work?


	21. Enough Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I knew this when I married you. I knew you may not be done with men. I agreed to accept that this is part of who you are. To love every part of you, not just the easy parts."

Almost ten. Was that too late to call someone? Would it be rude?

Dave did it anyway. "Hey Eddie. Can I talk to your wife? ... I'm sorry, I know it's late, but... Great, thank you. What? ... No, I'm not going to have a house warming party for my ghost. Keep that up and I won't invite you."

Petra came to the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi Petra, it's Dave. I have a question about my ghost problem I was hoping you could answer."

"I can sure try."

"Could a person serve as that belonging of Nicky's you were referring to? Because - "

Petra hissed through her teeth, as if the mere thought of what he was suggesting was painful. "Oh, no, Dave, that would never work."

"Why not?"

"Dave, you have to _burn_ it," she explained. "At the conclusion of the spell, you have to burn Nicky's belonging to ashes."

Well, that settled that. "Damn. Back to the drawing board, then."

Petra spoke to him in a soothing tone, almost like patting his head from down the block. "You'll figure it out. Don't try so hard to force it. It will come to you."

"Okay." He sighed. "Thanks, Petra."

His phone rang almost as soon as he hung it up. Caller ID: Cara. Chris's wife. Yippee, this is exactly what he needed to finish off his night just right! Dave put his head in his free hand and answered the call. "Hey Cara."

"Uh, hi Dave. Can we talk for a few minutes?"

"Sure. I take it Chris got there okay?"

Clearing her throat, Cara replied, "Yeah, he got here. But there's something really, really wrong."

Dave rubbed his eyes with his thumb and first finger. "Really? What makes you think that?"

"Because when we met him at the airport, he scooped up as many of our kids as he could fit in his arms and burst into tears."

There was a long pause as Dave tried to gather himself before he burst into something himself, but for him, it was hysterical giggles. This story had been hard enough to tell the first time. "Really? Is he okay?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Dave desperately wanted to snap at her, bite her head off, _Get on with it so I can collapse into bed!_ But she had no idea what had happened, the crazy things that had happened... "What did he say to you?"

"Chris said something had happened at your house and he wasn't ready to talk about it, but he was just so glad to be alive. Dave, he's a wreck. Everybody's worried about him. Does this have anything to do with Taylor falling down the stairs?" Cara asked.

That fucking mad laughter again. Dave deliberately bit the inside of his mouth to stifle it. "Ow. Yeah. Yeah, it does."

"So? And why did you say ow?"

"Because I bit the inside of my mouth."

Cara took her turn to pause, then started to ask, "Why did you - "

Interrupting her, he said, "Cara, it's not my place to tell you what happened. Chris would want to be the one to tell you, in his own words."

"Come on, Dave, you can at least tell me something."

"It's a really long, involved story. Not the kind of thing I can tell you over the phone, trust me."

"Did you fire him?"

Dave closed his eyes, willing himself not to get angry. "No, I did not fire him. I'm very happy with Chris's work. Cara, please, just let things lie for now. Chris will tell you in his own time."

She could not let it lie. "Dave, my husband spent the day with us, thanking God over and over that he was alive to be with his family, and bursting into tears several times. It's scaring our children. 'Mommy, what's wrong with Daddy?' The last time he started crying, I made him lie down, and he begged me to hold him. He's now napping all curled up in a ball." Huffing, Cara demanded, "Whatever you know, you need to tell me, now!"

At that, the resolve that had been holding Dave together crumbled enough to let in a little of the madness he had been fighting. "You wanna push the issue, Cara? Okay. I'm telling you, it's a crazy story, but just try to keep up. Taylor and I used a Ouija board to make contact with the ghost in my house. But see, you have to read a prayer before you do it or someone could get possessed."

"Possessed?"

"Yeah, by the ghost. Pay attention, Cara. Anyway, I didn't believe in the stupid prayer and whadda you know, the ghost possessed Taylor. You wouldn't believe who the ghost turned out to be, either. Austin Nicholas Kelly. Does that name mean anything to you?"

".....What? Dave, what are you talking about?"

"What happened at my house. That's what you asked, right?"

"Uh... I guess." Cara wasn't sure what was happening. Ghosts? Possession?

"Okay then. The ghost used Taylor's body to chain me down to a piece of furniture and proceed to tell me that he was obsessed with me in life. See, that statue Jordyn and I bought had a spell put on it by a witch, and the ghost used it to put Taylor's soul to sleep so he would have total control of his body. The ghost planned to take me away and make me his sex slave. This is what your husband walked into on Sunday afternoon." Now that he had gotten going, Dave was a runaway locomotive. He could not stop. "Did I mention that he found my gun and threatened everybody with it?"

He could hear Cara swallow. "Chris?"

"No, the ghost. He said if anybody got out of line, he would shoot Taylor in the head and possess Chris instead. But he was lying. We didn't know that at the time, though. Your hubby came over to check on us like you asked him to - remember, Taylor was acting weird on the phone? He was possessed then. And Nicky got the jump on him and bashed him over the head with a beer bottle. Nicky is the ghost."

"Oh. Uh huh."

"That's how Chris got the cut on his forehead. You did notice that, didn't you?" Dave asked, as if this conversation was totally normal.

"Uh, yeah, I saw that. Dave, do you feel alright?" Cara said.

"Not really," he replied, laughing a little. "So anyway, Nicky got the jump on Chris and threw him down the stairs. While he was all disoriented, Nicky chained him up too. Then he spent another night threatening and terrorizing us and fucking with our heads until he decided that none of this was going to work and he would just have to kill us all. That's why Taylor stabbed himself, to drive the ghost out and back into the statue, so he couldn't kill us. That whole story about Taylor and the wheel of cheese was a cover. I mean, now that you've heard the whole fucked up story, don't you agree that the cheese story is a little better?"

Again, Cara paused a long time before answering. "Yes, I guess it is. How is Taylor anyway?"

"He'll be alright. There was some internal bleeding, but they took care of it." Dave realized he wasn't done. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"Dave, I... I don't know what to think."

"When Chris wakes up, you ask him. I guarantee you, Chris believes it. If you were here, I could take you right to Nicky and you could see he exists." Dave snapped and knocked himself in the forehead with his open palm. "I totally forgot to tell you about Kurt's ghost being here too!"

"Dave, stop!"

He looked up. Jordyn stood there, a worried, stricken look on her face. How long had she been standing there, listening?

Dave said, "Jordyn's here. Talk to her for a while," into the phone, then tossed it on the couch and headed for their bedroom.

*****

Even though he put the pillow over his head, Dave could still hear a little of what Jordyn was saying on her end of the conversation. For what he could tell, she was backing up his story. Dave didn't want to talk about it anymore, didn't want to tell this story anymore. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep in his own bed.

But now, not even his bed was safe. His bed held memories that made him feel conflicted.

_Your fear is even sexier than your anger._

Taylor's tongue, moving over sensitive skin...

Dave shivered. He wanted the hard part to be over. All this talking, all this discussion... Couldn't he just have Taylor in his arms again?

He felt Jordyn sit on her side of the bed and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Without removing the pillow from his head, Dave answered, "The whole world is tilted on its axis."

"I know the feeling." She laid down and turned over on her side, facing her husband with a pillow for a head. "Will you come out of your pillow fort? I wanna talk to you."

"Oh Jordyn, I have had too much talking today. And there will be so much more tomorrow. Just let me rest."

"I only want to ask you some questions. I only want honest answers."

"Fine." Dave took the pillow and put it under his head. "You answer one for me first."

"Okay."

"What did you and Kurt talk about?"

Jordyn shrugged. "I told him he broke your heart."

"Why?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't."

Letting out a long sigh, Dave turned over on his back and studied the ceiling. "I wasn't the most hurt by what he did. Frances and Courtney, they were the closest to him."

"That doesn't mean you weren't affected. Dave, do you think I don't understand who you are? Do you think I haven't been listening?"

He looked over at her in the dim light. The light from the bathroom through the partially open door was the only light in the room. Dave could see her face, but he couldn't read it. "What do you mean?"

"I married you knowing that you've been with as many men as you have women. I know you're bisexual. You can pretend you don't care, but I know how you felt about Kurt and how it hurt you when he killed himself, and that you wanted to grieve with the world not just as his bandmate, but as his lover. But you couldn't tell anyone. A secret like that..."

"...it's too explosive," Dave finished. "Few would have understood. Especially with Courtney ripping me apart in the press. Playing the victim. 'Kurt was my husband, and that slut Dave tried to steal him away.' I didn't want any of that."

"That doesn't mean you can't talk about it in private."

A small laugh escaped him. "You know how I am about feelings sometimes."

"Yeah, I know. But I also know that before we got married, you told me that you had feelings for Taylor. Beyond friendship feelings. You wanted to make sure that I could deal with it in case he ever returned those feelings, because you would want to be able to act on them. You wanted me to share you." Jordyn shook her head at the memory, smiling a little. "At the time, I thought it sounded crazy, an open marriage where a wife shares her husband with his boyfriend. But then I realized that I love you for everything you are. I don't want to suffocate you by asking you to repress your natural feelings. I married you knowing that this could happen someday."

Dave listened, already beginning to feel guilty for how understanding she was being.

"So many years passed that I was starting to think that nothing was ever going to happen between you two... and then we both find out that you've already had sex with Taylor." Jordyn took a deep breath and let it out. "I have to admit, it was a shock."

"Tell me about it."

"This brings me to my major question... when you were talking to Cara over the phone - "

"More like ranting at her," Dave mumbled.

"Alright, ranting at her, you said Nicky wanted to take you away and make you his sex slave."

He thought he knew where this was going. Dave visibly tensed up.

Jordyn finished, "Did he do anything to you through Taylor's body?"

The silence that followed told Jordyn everything she needed to know, but she still wanted him to say it. He kept too many things bottled inside. Dave draped an arm over his eyes. "Jordyn, I would rather talk about this with Taylor and Alison present."

"Dave, if I'm going in there to talk about something this huge, then I want to be prepared for it. Did he... did he _rape_ you?"

Even Dave was surprised with how fast the tears came. "Almost."

"Oh God, Dave." Jordyn reached for him, and he went willingly into her arms. He let himself cry for a little while because he knew how it would have altered everything if Nicky had been successful in raping him through Taylor's body. The crying jag only lasted a few minutes, then he pulled away, sniffling and reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. "You alright?" she asked.

"As alright as I can be. Jordyn, there's more. We're already talking about this and you want to be ready for tomorrow, so I might as well tell you now. Nicky's attempted rape wasn't all that happened." It kind of seemed like she was already expecting this, but it still filled Dave with dread to tell her.

"What do you mean?"

He fiddled with the sheets, kicking them off his feet. "His eyes changed color," Dave said.

"You told us that."

"No, I mean they rapidly changed color."

"I don't get it," Jordyn said.

This was even harder to explain than he anticipated. "Nicky was really aggressive. He wanted... he wanted sex any way he could get it. Sex with me. But I didn't want to because Taylor couldn't consent to using his body that way. I had no desire to do anything with a ghost who was trying to steal my friend's body." Dave stopped talking for a long time, having trouble saying the "But..."

Jordyn took his cue. "But you did want to do things with Taylor."

Nodding, he said, "Yeah. And then Nicky said he could let Taylor out a little, but still keep control of his body. To prove it, his eyes started changing color from blue to brown, rapidly. It wasn't the way I wanted any of this to happen, but if I resisted... if I didn't keep him busy... and there are still three people we can't account for. I tried to keep Nicky within my sight."

Jordyn touched his hair near the temple, running her fingers through it. "Don't think about that now. Okay? Just... are you saying you and Taylor had sex again?"

He nodded. "And I wanted him. I wanted Taylor so bad."

She swallowed hard. "Are you going to leave me?"

Dave finally looked at her, then took her in his arms. "No. No, Jordyn, you're the mother of my kids and I love you. We have a beautiful life together. I'm asking you to... Why does saying this make me feel like a total asshole?"

"Because marriages aren't usually like this." She sighed. "It's like we talked about all those years ago. You want me to share you."

He also ran his fingers through her hair. "Is that wrong?"

Jordyn thought about it. "No. I knew this when I married you. I knew you may not be done with men. I agreed to accept that this is part of who you are. To love every part of you, not just the easy parts." She kissed him, closing her eyes. "It's just, I think the thought of you out there, doing things with him that I can't be a part of... I might get jealous."

"But who says you can't be a part of it sometimes?"

Despite herself, Jordyn smiled a bit, then pulled it back. "What do you mean, Dave?"

He grinned with mischief in his eyes. "Taylor and I briefly discussed the possibility of foursomes." Touching her cheek, Dave asked, "Is that something you'd be interested in trying?"

A little too enthusiastically, telling him more than he'd asked, Jordyn said, "So Alison and I could fool around?"

Dave's eyes widened. "You want to be with Alison?"

Jordyn, stifling a giggle, rolled her eyes. "I, um... yeah, I could be persuaded to try it."

"Jordyn... are you telling me we're the premier bisexual rock n' roll power couple?" he laughed.

She shook her head, then again rolled her eyes. "Yes, no, I mean, I don't know, I'd say it's more bicurious at this point. That is a thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's a thing." They both giggled. This was more than he could have hoped for. "What brought this on, baby?"

"A few too many glasses of wine, last year in Hawaii." Another giggle. "Alison told me about her sexual escapades with Taylor, how she dominates him with, a... did Taylor tell you anything?"

Dave played dumb. He wanted to hear her describe it. "Something about a fuzzy paddle?"

"Oh, the spankings are only the tip of the iceberg. I guess Taylor isn't done with men either, because - wait, we know that's definite." Jordyn cringed a little. Dave frowned. She tried to hide her reaction behind a smile. "I guess Taylor likes anal sex a lot, because he asked Alison to fuck him with a dildo. It's called pegging."

"Jordyn, are you sure you're going to be okay with this?"

Nibbling at her bottom lip, she shrugged. "I'm sure there will be times that I feel jealous and hurt over it. Something like this is never going to run like clockwork. But we can work at it, can't we?"

"Yeah. We can." Dave hugged her to him. "Finish your story."

"Well, Alison described some of her sexy outfits and I couldn't stop picturing her in them, with those lovely long legs... she was out by the pool that day in a bikini and that was the first time I felt... the first time... I wanted her." They giggled together; this was becoming a habit. "We talked about a foursome so I could see her in her bustier, and, well, we were both really tipsy and... we... shared a kiss."

Grinning, Dave purred in appreciation of the mental picture.

"Ever since then, I've wanted to take things further, but I... I didn't know how to bring it up."

"I'm sorry you didn't feel comfortable bringing it up to me."

"It wasn't just you, it was all of us. There are four people involved here. Not to mention we have kids." Sighing, she finished, "Do parents really do these kinds of things?"

"Do parents play in rock bands? Do parents appear in magazines? Some do," Dave assured her. "Do you think Alison will be open to it?"

"I think so. There were vibes. And that kiss." Her hand ran up and down Dave's chest. "It's worth a shot."

He glanced down at her hand. It had been a long, terrifying day. Dave didn't want to talk anymore. His nerves were still wound up and he needed something to release all the built-up tension. And those mental pictures she had conjured up with her tantalizing story... "Taylor and I can watch, right? You know men." Dave kissed her then, the kind of kiss she knew well.

"Of course you can watch. That's why it's a foursome, right?" Jordyn kissed him back. Within seconds, she was pulling his T-shirt off over his head, careful not to disturb the bandage he'd put over the word carved into his chest. Jordyn kissed it. "My poor baby. Are you sure you're in the mood for this?"

"After the day I've had, I need exactly this." Dave shared several deep, aroused kisses with his wife, pressed tight against her. "Would you describe to me what you'd like to wear the first time we share our bed with Taylor and Alison?"

"Hmm..." she purred. "How about that slinky red number with the beaded top?"

Growling, Dave positioned himself between her legs and rubbed himself against her body. "I can't wait."


	22. Echoes, Silence, Patience, and Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey!" Taylor called as Dave and Jordyn entered the hospital room. "I farted this morning and the doctor is pleased."

Sleeping naked in the bed he shared with Jordyn, Dave had the first of the dreams Petra had mentioned. This one didn't reveal as much as the second one, but it gave him a bit of useful information.

He found himself dressed, in a dark hallway, light coming from under a door in front of him. A pinpoint of light also came from the tiny keyhole in the knob; Dave knelt down on one knee and peered into it. Two people inside the room, a man and a woman, were arguing.

"You're scaring our boys, Chris!" It was Cara. Dave could only see her lower half as she paced the room, but he recognized her voice.

And there was Chris's lower half, following her. "I'll be alright in a couple of days, I just, I need some time with my family. There's something I need to tell you, Cara." He took her arm. "Please, stop and talk to me."

"I _am_ talking to you. I'm starting to think you've all lost your minds, or maybe I have. You should have heard Dave on the phone. He sounded completely disturbed. But Jordyn backed him up, every word. If Jordyn hadn't said he was telling the truth... Still, am I really supposed to believe all this loony bullshit?"

Dave looked down, afraid she might back up and he'd see her face, the expression on her face. How did one tell this story and not sound disturbed? It hurt, to hear his friend's wife say things like that about him.

"Yes, Cara, you are supposed to believe it, because it happened, and I believe it too."

Dave heard a chair creak as she sat down. He looked through the keyhole just in time to see her raise her bowed head and gesture dramatically with her hand. "Fine. Fine, I accept that it happened. I can't wrap my head around most of it, but it happened. What do you need me to do?"

Chris knelt before her and took both of her hands. "There's something else." He swallowed hard and wet his lips. "This ghost, this Nicky, he... I don't know, he seemed to enjoy messing with our heads, and manipulating Dave into doing... sexual things with him."

"But, he was 'possessing' Taylor, right?"

"Yes."

"So it's kind of like Dave and Taylor messed around."

Chris sighed. "In their case, yeah."

"How are Jordyn and Alison going to take that?" Cara wondered aloud, in a gossipy tone.

"I don't know, I hope they will be understanding about the circumstances. Just like... I hope you will be."

Cara looked at him through an evaluative squint. "Why would I need to be understanding?"

"Because Nicky forced himself on me."

She didn't say anything at first, but eventually replied, "Nicky... forced himself on you. Nicky."

"Yes. Taylor wasn't involved at all. He was completely asleep at that moment. He wanted Dave to have sex with him, so he made like he was going to force me into it unless Dave volunteered, and... and he touched me. And then later, to punish Dave for hurting his feelings, he gave me... he gave me oral sex." Chris looked down, still feeling guilty even though it wasn't his fault. "I didn't feel right not telling you. I hope you understand that I didn't want this to happen, but I couldn't stop him. My hands were chained up."

"So, Taylor giving you... I'm sorry, _Nicky_... Nicky giving you a blowjob was Dave's punishment?" Cara said, sarcasm and anger in her voice.

Chris nearly exploded. He took Cara by the elbows and leaned closer to her. "Is that what you think? Do you really think we made up this crazy, elaborate, terrifying story as a cover so we could all have a big kinky sex party?!"

Cara could not currently see past her initial reaction of anger; she immediately assumed this was her husband's misguided way of excusing whatever new encounter had happened with Taylor. "No, Chris, I think Taylor Hawkins is some kind of sex addict and he's never going to stop trying to put his hands on you!"

At that moment, Chris's reaction startled even Dave. He pulled Cara up off the chair seat half an inch, squeezing her elbows, and yelled, "Don't you say anything against Taylor! He risked his life to save Dave and I! If he hadn't stabbed himself, the ghost would have killed us all, and instead of being here with my wife and my babies, I'd be back there on Dave's couch with my chest full of stab wounds, waiting to be discovered! DEAD! Can't you understand that?! Can't you understand that I didn't want any of this to happen?" Chris was breaking down in tears, releasing his hold on her. Cara listened and watched, her face full of shock. "I didn't want it. I begged him to stop. But he wouldn't stop. He enjoyed it. Nicky liked fucking with our heads." Sobbing into her lap, he finished, "I thought of you the whole time. Please tell me you don't blame me, Cara."

Her hands were shaking as she ran her fingers through his hair, shushing him. "Shhh, it's okay, I don't blame you." Something in his reaction finally convinced her that even if the story was utterly unbelievable, Chris 100% believed it was true. Cara stroked his hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist and cried into her lap. "It's not your fault."

Dave had to turn away. His friends were hurting, he was hurting, and all because of that monster in the cage. He stood up and walked the dark hall, hearing voices behind another door. This one wasn't locked. Dave stepped through it into someone's party, a Halloween party by the looks of it, and glanced around at all the people in costume. The crowd was quite thick, so thick that when he heard Nicky's voice, he couldn't fully see him, just a head and set of shoulders across the room.

A girl in a slutty nurse costume covered in fake blood handed Dave a red Solo cup full of dark amber beer. "Drink up, dude. It's Halloween."

Dave did, and laughed, "Halloween, and me without a costume."

From across the room, Nicky laughed the too loud and too enthusiastic laugh of the drunk college-age student. He also held a red Solo cup, his other arm around a guy who had his back to Dave. Nicky, dressed as a Ghostbuster, spoke to a dark-haired friend about their plans for that night. "Then we can wrap the quad in toilet paper."

The friend laughed. "Are you really going to drag this guy around with you all night?"

"That's a fine way to talk about my boyfriend. What do you think, Manny? You wanna spend Halloween with us?" he asked, chortling his way through the question.

The friend laughed so hard, he sputtered beer when he tried to take a drink. "Manny," he repeated, like the name was funny.

Manny said nothing.

Dave's attention was stolen away by the sound of someone crying. The sobs were hysterical, inconsolable. He walked toward another door, another way out.

The girl in the bloody nurse costume grabbed his hand. "Don't go. We're about to bob for apples."

Dave shook his head. "I don't want those apples." He gestured toward the metal container full of water with shiny red fruit floating in it. "They're made of plastic."

The sobs of someone he knew again drew Dave's attention, and he headed toward the door. It wasn't Chris he was hearing now.

It was Kurt. Why was Kurt crying?

This door led back to the white space, the pocket limbo dimension created by the magick surrounding the statue. Except, something was different. The light of the dimension was more light yellow than white. Something about the quality of the light hurt Dave's eyes. He walked toward the sound of Kurt's sobs, and found him sitting in a large chair that Dave wanted to describe as a throne. It wasn't made of metal, but fuschia fabric with silver spikes sticking out of it; there was barely enough room for Kurt to sit on it for all the long, sharp spikes. The "throne" was darkly majestic, and there was something horrible about it. It wasn't a throne anyone wanted to sit on.

Several of the spikes were skewering heart-shaped boxes of three or four different shades of red. Dave sort of understood the symbolism of that. Heart-shaped boxes had personal meaning to Kurt and Courtney. He'd written that song about it.

Dave moved until he could see Kurt's face. That's when he noticed Boddah standing next to the throne. "How'd I miss you?" he wondered. "Is this one of those dreams where I don't notice shit until I'm supposed to?"

Boddah, his face covered by the cloak hood, turned slightly as if he was acknowledging Dave's presence. The reaper chattered to Kurt, who sobbed harder.

"How am I supposed to do that, Boddah? No one's ever going to forgive me for this. No one!"

Dave took a good look at Kurt. He realized that the ghost he'd been interacting with for the last few days did look older than the Kurt he was looking at now. The Kurt on the throne had a youthful but haggard face, but that wasn't the most dramatic thing about him. The most shocking thing about this Kurt was that he wore a leather collar so overrun with spikes that he could barely move his head up and down. There were rows upon rows of them, some longer and skinnier than others just to fit them in.

Turning his head, Dave looked at what Kurt was looking at. The space in front of him was like a floating TV screen, except there was no TV there. On this spiritual viewer, Kurt could see people, some Dave recognized and many he didn't, and they were all crying. Freaking out, screaming, crying, asking why... and then he saw Courtney. Behind her, Kurt's mother was also sobbing, holding Frances and sobbing. Courtney, of course, took the cake. Took the most cake.

She was going through a box of clothes. They looked like Kurt's clothes. Courtney started throwing them around and screaming, crying, cursing. "How am I supposed to decide what to keep and what to throw away of my husband's things? How does a person decide that? He should be here, be here to wear these things. Damn you! DAMN YOU, KURT! DAAAMN YOOOU for doing this! DAMN YOOOU!"

Kurt sobbed harder.

"Fuck you, Kurt Cobain! Fuck you and you're goddamn Jesus complex, leaving me behind with all this because you're too weak to stick it out! Fuck you, fuck you, oh God..." Courtney buried herself in the pile of clothing, rolling around in Kurt's shirts and sweaters and pairs of jeans and bringing them to her chest and face. "Some of these still smell like him," she keened, and collapsed into tears.

Kurt shook his head as best he could. "Did you see that, Boddah? Do you still think she could ever forgive me for killing myself?" Gesturing to the screen, he said, "Kids have been committing suicide because I killed myself. Do you understand that?"

Dave realized he was looking at Kurt's ghost within a few days of his suicide. When he was just beginning to face what he'd done, and what he'd have to do to redeem his soul.

The thought that his actions had caused kids, kids who loved and understood his music, to commit suicide was too much for Kurt to currently face. He curled into his lap, hands covering his head. "What have I done? What am I responsible for? Oh God, oh God, oh God..."

Dave forgot that this was a dream and no one could see him. He reached out to stroke Kurt's head, to comfort him. At that moment, Kurt wailed, "Dave!"

He pulled his hand back like he'd touched a hot stove.

Kurt continued, "And what have I done to Dave? People don't know about us, they don't know how I played with his heart. I'm a married man with a jealous wife. How did I think that whole thing was going to end? What did I even want out of it? Maybe I ended my life so I didn't have to make a choice. Do you think that was part of it, Boddah? Oh God, I'm nothing but a horrible, selfish, piece of shit!"

Shaking his head, Dave reached out again and touched Kurt's hair. He could feel the soft blonde strands under his fingers, but he didn't think Kurt could feel him. "No. No, that's not all you are."

Kurt raised his head and wailed, "What have I done, GOD WHAT HAVE I DOOONE?!"

Dave woke up with the sound of Kurt's voice in his ears, his face wet with tears. He knew there was a meaning to everything in it, even the cryptic statements about plastic apples and thrones of spikes, but exactly what it all meant, Dave couldn't be sure. What he did know was he was happy to have a wife who could put her jealousy aside long enough to experiment with her husband and see where it took them, and he was glad to have the chance to show Kurt that forgiveness, complete forgiveness, was possible.

*****

Teddy bears, balloons, flowers, none of it seemed right. "What do you get for a grown man who's in the hospital when you want to say get well?"

Jordyn looked around the hospital gift shop and picked up a plant in a 'Get Well Soon' mug. "Would he like this?"

Dave nodded. "It's masculine enough. Of course, Taylor is also a bit of a hyperactive kid too... we better top this off with some balloons."

Taylor was partially propped up in bed, awake and grinning at his wife, who sat nearby, holding one of his hands. A tray of dirty dishes had been pushed aside when the meal was finished; Dave couldn't be happier to see that his friend was able to eat his breakfast. "Hey!" Taylor called as Dave and Jordyn entered the hospital room. "I farted this morning and the doctor is pleased."

"What?" Dave laughed.

"Apparently, when you've had abdominal surgery, it's a really good sign if you can fart afterwards. It means your guts are working properly."

"Alright!" Dave slapped him five.

Taylor winced a little when he leaned into the gesture, then settled back in bed, rubbing lightly at the bandage on his abdomen. "Of course, I'm still tender. Are those for me?"

"Get well soon!" Dave and Jordyn said together, and presented him with the plant and the balloons.

"Thanks, you two," Taylor said with a smile. He gave the things to Alison, who deposited them on the windowsill with Taylor's other gifts. "Alison also helped me take a walk down the hallway. I'm firmly on the mend."

"The doctor said he should be in here for a couple more days," Alison added. "...depending on the psych evaluation."

"Uh oh." Dave made sure his wife found a seat, then settled into one himself. "They evaluating the reason for your carved up arm?"

"Yeah. But I doubt anyone will find me suicidal, since I didn't do it."

An uncomfortable hush fell over the room. And they'd been having such a nice visit... already with the Nicky talk.

Taylor broke the silence. "I'm not going to make it to Hawaii this year. I'll still be in here."

"That's too bad."

"We're just glad you're going to be okay," Jordyn said.

Taylor looked at her. The tension in the room increased. A million things that needed to be said hung in the air.

Now Alison tried to get the conversation going again. "Taylor and I have been talking, and he corroborated your story... about Nicky Kelly."

Nodding, Dave asked, "What do you remember?"

Taylor turned his eyes to Dave, a smoldering, half-lidded gaze. "Everything," he said. "I remember _everything_."


	23. Rope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor remembered everything. Everything.

Taylor turned his eyes to Dave, a smoldering, half-lidded gaze. "Everything," he said. "I remember _everything_."

Because she was on the wrong side of him, Alison could not see the look Taylor gave to his friend, but Jordyn could. Her husband was right. Taylor was completely on board with the foursome thing.

"Except a few short moments of amnesia," Alison filled in. She squeezed Taylor's hand lightly and he looked at her. "Right?"

"Right," he said, and gave her a kiss.

When the eye contact was broken, Dave let out a breath he'd been holding. Yes, Taylor remembered _everything_... except? "Wait, there are things you don't remember?"

"Yeah. They all happened in the house, except one."

That was encouraging, wasn't it? "Tell us about them."

"Well... most of what I experienced while being possessed by Nicky was like a dream. I could see out of my own eyes but I wasn't in control of my body. Someone else was speaking with my mouth. There were times when I could do what I wanted, but only when Nicky also wanted to. Or when he would let me. For a while, I didn't know what was happening. I had a feeling that something was very wrong, very, very, wrong, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

"I'm not sure why a ghost needed to sleep, maybe he was actually recharging or whatever dead people need to do, but there were times when Nicky slept and I slept too. During those times, I had wonderful dreams of some of my best memories. But there were other times when I was asleep, and Nicky was awake." Taylor shuddered, any trace of a smile fading from his face. "He would put me in this nightmare world where I was present for memories of his crimes. I could hide my eyes, but I couldn't close my ears." Falling silent, he stared off into space with a sad, disturbed look on his face. Alison stroked the hair at his temple behind his ear. "I didn't have anything there, I just had to wait until it was over. Nothing but - "

"But the cat," Dave said. "Munchie the cat. He kept you company."

"Oh yeah, you were there that one time."

Dave and Taylor met each other's gaze. Something unspoken passed between them, as it had a million times before. It was that connection they had, a connection both Jordyn and Alison knew that no matter how much their husbands loved them, they would never be able to rival.

The moment passed, and Taylor continued. "When I was stuck in this nightmare world, I don't know what Nicky was doing."

"How many times did it happen?"

"About six, seven times. Usually, when I came back, Nicky was still in bed, or cleaning something, or that night he got drunk, drinking too much. These times, I think he was just playing with me. Torturing me. But there were other times when I think... I think he was trying to hide what he was doing from me. So I wouldn't... wouldn't scream so much. He didn't like my screaming. At least not then." Taylor shuddered again.

Alison, stroking his hair and shoulders, asked, "Honey, what do you mean?"

With a hard swallow, Taylor tried to explain. "Nicky seemed to like it when he put me in the nightmares and it drove me to scream. But any other time..."

Obviously, Taylor hadn't said this much when he was just speaking to Alison, because she exclaimed, "Oh, Taylor," and hugged him.

Dave got up. "Tee, I'm so sorry - "

"No! Not yet!" Taylor pulled his wife's arms from around him and laid them aside as gently as he could. He put up a hand to tell Dave to stop, and motioned for him to sit back down. Dave did as he asked. "I can fall apart later, right now I've got to get all this out. We have to make sure Nicky didn't have any time to hurt anyone else."

Alison couldn't help it; she still stroked Taylor's hair, close to tears now. He tried not to look at her, because he knew it would make him break down.

Dave cut in with a question. "So, all these times it happened in the house, it started in my house and when you came back, you were still in the house."

"Yeah," Taylor confirmed with a nod. "Those times, the only people he hurt were you and Chris."

Dave shifted in his chair like he was uncomfortable. "What do you remember about Chris being there?"

"Well, none of it's good, since he ran off to Hawaii to be with his family."

"He really wanted to be here, and he told me to tell you that he wants you to get better soon, but yeah, he went to Hawaii to be with Cara and the boys. Nicky really shook him up, man," Dave explained.

"I can understand that, and I don't blame him. I wish we were all in Hawaii instead of this damn hospital." With a frustrated sigh, Taylor pounded his fist on the bed rail before continuing. "What I remember is Chris coming over and Nicky beating him up before handcuffing him to the railing in your art room, where Chris was lying on the couch. I was screaming that whole time, 'Leave him alone, let him go, stop hurting him!', but of course, Nicky didn't listen. It bothered him when I did that.

"Soon after, Nicky's trying to get Chris's phone out of his back pocket and he's practically groping him and all, 'You got pretty eyes,' and I started yelling again, telling him to leave Chris alone, and Nicky threw me into the nightmare for a while. When I came back, Nicky was heading out to my car to run errands."

"What else do you remember regarding Chris?" Dave asked. As soon as the question was out of his mouth, he regretted it. Either Taylor remembered the blowjob or he didn't, and either way could be a minefield to navigate.

"Um... I remember Chris hiding himself against the back of the couch, like he hoped Nicky wouldn't notice him anymore, and heading over there to... I'm not even sure what Nicky had planned. He put me in the nightmare world," Taylor replied.

Oh shit... Taylor didn't even know.

Alison's eyes darted back and forth between Taylor and Dave. What had Nicky done to Chris? Did her husband really not remember it? "Tell them what happened on errand day," she said.

"Oh, yeah," Taylor agreed, nodding. "Nicky went to a drug store, and then drove into Los Angeles, to the Arts District. To something on Mateo Street. As soon as we turned, he sent me into nightmare land. Next thing I remember is getting back in the car. Nicky was giggling to himself for half the trip back."

When he mentioned Mateo Street, Dave and Jordyn looked at each other, a bit alarmed with how this was shaping up. "The gallery," Jordyn exclaimed.

Dave looked at Taylor and Alison and filled in, "The gallery where we bought the statue is on Mateo Street."

A knowing but shocked expression came to Taylor's face. "Then this really was done to you. Someone trapped Nicky's soul in the statue and then steered you toward buying it. Whoever it is, Nicky knows them. I bet he went to visit them."

"Before, I might've said let's not jump to conclusions, but yesterday, Nicky told me he made a deal with someone to make this whole thing happen. It's someone from the gallery," Dave declared. "It has to be."

"The witch?" Jordyn suggested.

"Oh God, what if our witch did this whole thing? We need her help to send Nicky back to Hell. If she's in league with him..." Dave shook his head.

"What is this about now?"

Taylor had been in surgery and out for the night when they got this part of the story. Dave explained about the witch and her spell.

"What would happen if we exorcized the statue without her help?" Taylor asked.

"Nicky could go free."

Alison put a hand to her head. "This is all so crazy."

Pulling her in for a hug and a kiss to her temple, Taylor said, "I know, baby. I know."

"Don't worry," Dave said. "Kurt assured me he would bring me a dream that would reveal everything. I just have to wait for it."

"Well, let's hope the witch isn't Nicky's little friend. Or we could be really screwed," Taylor added, and sighed.

The group fell silent, lost in thought. Jordyn looked over at Dave, and he instantly knew where she thought the conversation should go next. "Alison, can I speak with Taylor alone for a few minutes?"

He rubbed Alison's shoulder. "Hon, you haven't had anything to eat yet today. Why don't you and Jordyn go find the cafeteria?"

A little wary, Alison looked from Taylor to Dave and stood up. What was causing that hesitation that fluttered in her stomach? "Okay." She picked up her purse. Jordyn smiled at her, and it made her feel a little better. After bending to give Taylor a kiss, Alison followed Jordyn toward the door. "We'll be back in half an hour or so."

Taylor gave her a nod. Once the door closed behind them, Dave moved to the side of the bed, sitting in the chair Alison had occupied. "I wanted to speak to you alone so I could find out how much you told Alison... about us."

"Nothing yet."

"Jordyn knows." Dave put his forearms on the bed rail and looked down at the bed, unable to meet Taylor's eyes. "Where do you want to go from here, Tee? What do you want?"

Tapping one of Dave's arms, Taylor said, "Put the bed rail down."

He did.

"Now come closer." Taylor grabbed the front of Dave's shirt and slowly pulled him toward him.

Dave closed the distance between them. They came together in a long, passionate kiss. Arms encircled each other, and they took their time, not coming up for air until they really had to. "We gotta slow down," Taylor whispered. "I just had surgery. But I want you so bad. No ghost, no threat of death, just you and me, together."

"Do you still want the foursome too?"

"Oh yeah, baby."

"Do you think Alison will go for it?"

Shrugging, Taylor replied, "I'm not sure. She was pretty upset after what happened with Shiflett. Since then, I've been in the doghouse more times than I expected to be. I'd say our odds are 50/50." He took his arms from around Dave's neck and picked at his nails, suddenly fidgety. "I know Nicky did something to Chris. There's no way he didn't. When he went over there, it was right after we, ah... well, I was naked at the time, so I'm sure me and Chris didn't play checkers."

Dave rubbed his bare shoulder, trying to get him to relax a bit. "It wasn't you. It was Nicky." Sighing, he told him what Nicky had done. "He held Chris down and gave him a blowjob."

Taylor put a hand over his eyes. "Oh God. Poor Chris. No wonder he ran off to Hawaii."

Dave rubbed his shoulder again. "Shiflett will be okay. Just give him time." Trying to approach the next question delicately, he asked, "Did Alison tell you about the discrepancy, the eight versus eleven people?"

He nodded. "I don't think he ever had time to kill and dispose of three people. I mean, yeah, Nicky threw me in the nightmare world at times, but it didn't feel like I was ever in there for the time it would take to do something like that." Taylor laid his arm over his eyes now, sighing deeply. "I hope. I just hope I didn't miss something."

"Don't second guess yourself." Dave took hold of his arm and lifted it off his face, kissing the back of Taylor's hand. Then he gently placed the arm by Taylor's side. "If Nicky did kill someone, you can always plead insanity. Everyone thinks I'm insane when I tell this story."

A small laugh escaped Taylor at first, but then suddenly, he began to cry.

Alarm in his eyes, Dave pulled Taylor gingerly into his arms. "Hey, I'm sorry. It was a bad joke. Why are you crying?"

Taylor wrapped his arms around Dave and sobbed into his neck. "I'm not crying because of your joke. It just came over me because of what Nicky did to my life. The only good thing is finding out that you feel the same way about me as I do about you. Everything else... I freaked out Shiflett, I may've killed three people - "

"Tee, stop it. You didn't do anything. Nicky did it."

"But will the police see it that way? Will Chris?"

"Stop. Whatever happens, it will all work out." Dave stroked his hair.

Instead of making him feel better, this seemed to upset Taylor more; he sobbed harder. Dave asked him what was wrong. "I can't stop seeing it. These scenes keep playing in my head, over and over. I keep hearing their screams, the sound of the electric saw he used to cut up their bodies... I keep hearing them pleading to be let go, 'I just wanna go home, please let me go home!' I tried to shut it out, I buried my face in the cat's fur, but I still knew what he was doing to them. Why did Nicky hate me so much? Why did he show me those horrible pictures?" he cried.

Tears pricked at Dave's eyes. "Nicky hated you because I love you, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't become you. He thought if he killed your will, he could keep your body, but you were too strong." Dropping a few soft kisses on the side of Taylor's head, Dave continued stroking his hair. "Oh God, Taylor, I'm so sorry. So very sorry he put you through that."

They cuddled, Dave gently rocking him and singing to him, until Taylor's sobs calmed to sniffles. Dave watched him wipe his eyes and then leaned in for a comforting kiss. "Are you okay?"

Lying back on his pillow, Taylor got a tissue and blew his nose. "It will take some time." Sheepishly, he added, "Once I get out of here, will you go to the pound with me and help me pick out a black and white cat?"

Dave had to laugh a little. "Like Munchie?"

He nodded.

"Will it really make you feel better to have a cat that looks like Munchie?"

Taylor nodded again. "To help me sleep."

"Okay, no problem." Dave hugged him once more, and they held each other, trying to make up for lost time.

*****

When Jordyn and Alison returned from the cafeteria, the first thing Alison noticed was that her husband's eyes were red, like he'd been crying. She wondered what he'd been talking to Dave about. "Hey honey. We're back. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Dave stood up and offered Alison her chair back. "Thank you," she said, and took it. "Did you two finish your conversation?"

"Pretty much." Dave looked at his wife, then cleared his throat. "Alison, we have something to speak to you about."

"Oh?"

Taylor put up a hand to stop him. "Dave, let me handle this." He took Alison's hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. "Baby, stuff kinda happened while I was possessed by the ghost." He also cleared his throat. "Sexual stuff."

She tensed up, and frowned, but didn't take her hand back. "Like what?"

"Uh, although I don't remember it, apparently Nicky gave Chris a blowjob. That's why he threw me into the nightmare before he went over to the couch. He knew I would start yelling at him to stop if I was present." Taylor searched her face for a reaction. "Chris didn't want it, and I didn't want to do it. This was completely different from... well, from before."

Taking a deep breath, Alison said, "I'm not going to get mad. I saw Nicky Kelly with my own eyes. I believe that this possession thing really happened. Part of me wants to call this cheating, and believe that the whole thing was an elaborate setup so you could get yourself another piece of Shifty, but... that's even more ludicrous than the idea you were possessed." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "It wasn't your fault."

A nervous grin came to his face. "Hold onto that attitude for the next few minutes."


	24. But, Honestly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor's legs wrapped around his waist and his arms around his neck and they moved together, thrusting in time, like this was so meant to be, no one would or could ever tear them apart now. They were eternal.

Taylor and Dave spent some time explaining how they had several sexual encounters as well, but these were different because it wasn't only Nicky who wanted Dave. "And Dave wanted me too." Taylor paused to give his wife a second to digest it all. "What are you thinking so far, Alison?"

She pulled her hand back. "Again, possession, it happened. But this... this is cheating, Taylor. You did this without my knowledge."

Dave tried to step in. "It wasn't like we could talk to you first. I was chained down and Taylor had little control of his body."

"Okay, but he wanted you in his heart, for years and years."

"Which you knew about," Taylor added.

"Which started years before we even met them," Jordyn said.

Alison gaped at her friend. "You support this?!"

"Hey, I wasn't extremely enthused when I found out these two had sex long before I ever met Dave, but I knew my husband was bi within a few dates. I knew what I was in for when I married him. He didn't stop being bi, and he didn't stop loving Taylor because we got married. I'm not some naïve little girl who believes all those feelings went away when we took our marriage vows."

Dave felt horrible; hearing these words from her, he felt like a jerk. "Jordyn, I never wanted you to feel like you were second best. I - "

"Dave, it's okay. It's really okay. I love you for who you are, not what I want you to become. Not what I want to turn you into. I never asked you to stop loving Taylor when we got married. I thought maybe this might never come up again - you were too scared to tell him anyway - but if it did, I was ready to see where it would take us." Jordyn took Dave's hand and squeezed it. "I'm okay with this."

Alison, throwing up her hands, cried, "So no one's on my side." She sighed, a hand over her face. "Okay, I knew about all the bisexual stuff and your feelings for Dave." Alison lowered her hand. "But I did allow myself to think it was all over when we got married. I didn't think this was ever going to come up again. And then the thing happened with Chris, and I knew somehow that it was all about Dave, but I still kept telling myself that you were only mine." Tears welled up in her eyes.

The expression on Taylor's face softened, and he reached out to touch Alison's cheek. "Don't cry. I'm still yours. It's just... I don't want to lie to you. I still have feelings for Dave, and I want to continue our relationship. But I don't want to leave you. I just want you to... share me." Taylor paused, rolling his eyes. "Why do I feel like such an asshole saying that?"

"That's what Dave said," Jordyn threw in with a small grin.

"Share you?"

"We talked about this, Alison. Years ago. You said you wanted me to be happy."

Looking down, she thought it over a few long seconds. "I said that because I thought it would never come up again. Now that it has... I don't know if I can go through with it."

Jordyn tried again. "Alison, they don't just want to be together without us. They're hoping we want to do some foursomes." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Remember, we talked about that?"

Alison lowered her head, grinning despite herself. A giggle escaped her. "Yeah, I... I remember."

Looking between the two women, Taylor smiled a bit too and asked, "You guys discussed foursomes?"

"Um... wine was involved," Alison confessed.

Now Taylor and Dave felt it was okay to smile, just a little. "Does that mean you want to try it?" Taylor asked his wife.

Alison thought it over as she had before, fumbling with her wedding ring. Turning it around and around on her finger. "Yeah, we can try it. I can't promise anything. I kind of have to see this before I can agree to anything further. If it hurts too much or makes me too jealous... I can't promise anything."

Something she said caught Dave's attention. "You have to see this first? See what?"

Again, Alison looked down, embarrassed and unsure. "I've never seen two guys together. You know, making out."

Dave and Taylor couldn't help but look at each other and snicker. "Do you want to see a kiss? It's the best we can do right now."

"Okay." Alison stood up. She made room for Dave, who came to the side of the bed, leaned over, and gave Taylor a peck on the mouth.

"Oh come on, you can do better than that," Jordyn said.

Taylor and Dave laughed, but Alison watched it all very carefully. With a shrug, Dave leaned in once more and planted a longer, more passionate kiss on Taylor's mouth. Their lips parted, but they went in for a few more small kisses, lingering, sucking lightly at each other's lips.

Alison let out a breath. "That wasn't so bad."

"Did you think it would be gross?" Dave questioned.

Alison shrugged. "Maybe. I never have had any desire to watch two guys get it on. But it wasn't so bad." She ran a hand through Taylor's hair. "You really like that?"

"You know I do."

She smoothed his blonde hair behind his ear. "I think that's why I could acquire a taste for watching it. To see you get off." Kissing the space between Taylor's ear and his cheek, Alison continued finger-combing his hair possessively. "It might be fun to see how many times we can get him off. Huh, Dave?"

He jumped a little; that was a surprise. "Yeah. That would be fun." Something in her tone suggested she saw this as a competition.

Taylor's face colored. He pulled Alison down for a kiss, which became just as passionate as the one between the two men. "Thank you for being understanding, baby, and giving this a shot."

"I love you too much to give you up that easily." There was another kiss.

Dave breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow he knew that if Alison had said no, Taylor would have been out.

"Um, so... when do you think we can get started?" Jordyn asked shyly.

This time, even Alison laughed. Taylor winced a little before delivering the bad news. "Unfortunately, the doctor said I have to wait two weeks before having sex again. It's too strenuous to do it any sooner."

The three looked at each other and groaned. "Your husband's nothing but a big fucking tease," Dave declared.

"I know," Alison said, and kissed Taylor's head. "I know."

*****

Jordyn wanted to bring the kids home. Both she and Dave missed them, but he certainly couldn't run off to Hawaii now. "Give it one more night," Dave told her, giving her a good night kiss. "Kurt will bring me that dream and then I can take the statue to 606."

"And then our kids can come home," Jordyn added happily.

"Exactly. Everything will start getting back to normal." Dave turned out the light. "At least, our new version of normal."

The mindscape seemed to change every time he entered it now. The ambient light was currently a pale pink, going well with the fuschia throne upon which Kurt sat. Only three spikes protruded from it at this time. Dave was looking at things as they are. "Kurt, is this the dream?"

Kurt leaned on one of the spikes. It teetered to one side; it was loose, like the one on his collar. "Yeah, buddy, it is. There will still be things you have to figure out, but there's a lot I can show you." Considering the throne beneath him, he remarked, "It's so pathetic that it took dying for me to grow up." Kurt offered a hand.

Dave sighed at his self-deprecation. "Kurt, you weren't - "

"Save it. Okay? You don't have to try to make me feel better. I've learned too much to need that anymore. Now take my hand and get your answers."

Resigned, Dave took it. Suddenly, he was on a journey. First stop, his house, the art room. It was filled with fog, a fog through which Nicky Kelly walked, trying to find something to hold onto. A chain tethered him to the statue.

Something moved through the fog, something small and blonde. "Mommy, put me on the horsie! Wanna ride!" Ophelia's voice pleaded, floating up out of the white soup. His precious little PhePhe.

"Okay, just for a little bit," Jordyn's voice said.

Nicky frowned, nervously cracking his knuckles. "Where am I?"

A black blur ran through, and Dave heard his own voice. "Oh boy, my girl gets to ride the horsie! Isn't it pretty? Almost as pretty as you."

Ophelia began to giggle loudly; Dave was probably tickling her. He couldn't even see through the fog, as he saw things through Nicky's perspective. "Daddy, Ima airplane. Do the airplane!"

Dave made airplane motor noises and ran around the room with Ophelia in his arms. Her arms spread out like wings and she giggled and squealed as he flew her around the room. He didn't need to see it to know what was happening; he'd lived it.

"You are who I'm here for," Nicky said to the raven-haired blob. "You. But who are you?" He tried to follow the man about the room, squinting at him, but his movements were too quick. "Slow down!" he demanded, and pounded a fist in the air.

This caused one of those loud bangs in the wall that started the whole "haunted house" thing. Jordyn squeaked, Ophelia screamed and grabbed at her father's neck. "Ghost! Scary ghost, Daddy!"

"It's okay, Daddy's got you. Let's go out back and swing, okay? Okay." They all headed for the stairs.

"Now do you believe me? You heard that, right?" Jordyn asked.

"Yeah, I heard it."

Nicky ran after them, chasing them up the stairs. "Wait! I didn't see your face!" He went as far as the chain would allow, and was eventually stopped like a dog on a leash.

Dave watched it all and shuddered. All those times it felt like someone was chasing him up the stairs, someone was.

He turned back to the statue and saw that the light had changed. This must be another time, another day. Harper stood in front of the statue with a plum in her hand; every time she bit into it, juice dripped from her hand and onto the carpet.

"Ooh, does your mother know you're down here with that messy fruit? You better get back upstairs, girl," Dave scolded his daughter.

Of course, she could not hear him. This was a memory, a memory of the house. Nicky seemed to be melded with the statue, sleeping.

Harper considered the statue, staring at it as if they were communicating. "Do you really have a ghost in you?" she questioned, trying to keep her voice down. "Hey ghost! Are you in there?"

Nicky opened his eyes.

Gasping, Dave ordered, "Harper, stop! Stop talking to it!"

Jordyn called down the stairs. "Harper, you better not be in the art room unattended."

She gasped and jumped, then put a finger to her lips. "Shhhh," the child told the statue. Harper waited at the bottom of the stairs until her mother was distracted, then scurried back up to the kitchen.

When Dave turned to the statue again, things had changed once more. The fog was thick, but Dave could see well enough to surmise that it was the night Taylor was possessed. He had his fingers on the planchette, waiting for Dave to ask a question.

"Is there anybody here besides us?"

As he had been with Harper, Nicky seemed to be sleeping in the statue. When Dave spoke to him, he opened his eyes.

The planchette moved to _YES._

Dave watched as Nicky stepped out of the statue and approached him and Taylor from three days ago. Quickly, Nicky put his hands over Taylor's and actually moved the pointer. Right after, Taylor began complaining that it felt like someone else's hands were over his. Nicky kept squinting at them, trying to make out their faces.

Eventually, Nicky moved his face very close to Dave's and gasped, recognition coming into his eyes. "Holy shit, are you Dave Grohl?!"

So this was everything from Nicky's point of view. For a few minutes, they spoke back and forth through the Ouija board, the tension mounting as Nicky started to make threats.

Making one last attempt to figure out if he knew who Taylor was, Nicky put his face up close to Taylor's as he raised his head. That was the moment that Taylor gasped with such shock and fear that it turned Dave's spine to ice. Taylor had noticed that the statue's eyes were no longer blue, not knowing that he was face to face with those eyes at that very moment.

Nicky grinned, satisfied. "You'll do," he said. His grin became predatory. "A friend of Dave Grohl's? You'll do just fine." He moved around in back of Taylor and put his arms around his shoulders, hands over Taylor's. "Sleep, my friend. Sleeeeeeep..."

Watching it now, Dave was struck by how easy it all seemed for Nicky to do it. He needed to get the statue out of his house. "Message received, Kurt."

Dave felt himself being pulled somewhere else. Rush, rush, wind whipping at his face. That nauseating feeling he got before when Kurt yanked him around the mindscape. "Go easy on me, Kurt. No reason to hurry, I'll be asleep - "

He found himself standing in Taylor's hospital room. " - all night," Dave finished. Asleep in his bed, Taylor was still bare chested; he didn't seem to like wearing a hospital gown. Alison slept on the couch in the room for another night.

Why was he here? If he shook Taylor, would he wake up for real, or just in the dream? "This shit is confusing," Dave complained to himself.

"Tell me about it," Taylor said, and turned over to grin at him. "Hey Dave. What brings you here?"

"Fuck if I know." Taking the seat next to the bed, he smiled back at his friend. "You remember Kurt was going to bring me an important dream?" Dave spread out his arms. "This is it."

"Huh." Taylor touched Dave's arm. "Why do you think you're here?" He made lazy circles with his finger, causing the hair on Dave's arm to tingle.

"I guess so we can talk."

"Or maybe because this is a dream, and I'm not bound by any physical limitations." Those lazy circles... Taylor's grin...

Dave smiled too. "Two weeks, huh?"

"Two weeks."

Still grinning, Dave chuckled and rubbed the back of Taylor's hand, then held it. "Maybe in a minute. I think we should talk first."

Taylor scoffed, but good-naturedly. "Killjoy."

"Hey, there's a reason I'm here. I doubt it's to make out with you." When Taylor flashed him a pouty look, Dave gave him a scolding one back. "I'm sure this won't take long."

Taylor sighed. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Well, first, how do you think Alison really took our proposition? Did she seem sincere?"

Shrugging, he replied, "I think my wife would prefer that this not be happening and she get to have me all to herself, but she's going to try a foursome because she wants me to be happy."

"What if she doesn't like it?" asked Dave, nearly holding his breath in anticipation of the answer.

Taylor shrugged again. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." He leaned up and kissed Dave on the mouth. "I'm going to do everything I can, fight for the two of us, because I love you. I have loved you... since I was Oh."

Dave reeled, his eyes wide. "That long?!"

Taylor nodded.

A lovesick expression coming over his face, Dave said, "I realized I was in love with you when I almost lost you, to the overdose."

They looked into each other's eyes and shared a gentle kiss. "Can we make out now?"

"Aw fuck, I can't keep my hands off you any longer." Dave pushed the bed rail down and climbed into the bed. Taylor threw the covers off; not only was there no wound and no bandage, but he wasn't wearing anything under that sheet. Just as he said, this was a dream, there weren't any physical limitations.

The two men came together in the middle of the bed, kissing, arms around each other, bodies stroking against one another, creating heat. They fumbled Dave's pajamas off and it was skin to skin, and before he knew what was happening, he was inside Taylor, the other man moaning loud and a bit shrill. Taylor's legs wrapped around his waist and his arms around his neck and they moved together, thrusting in time, like this was so meant to be, no one would or could ever tear them apart now. They were eternal.

"Mm... Dave," Taylor cried, panting into Dave's ear.

His excitement growing, Dave sat up, pulling Taylor up with him, and let him sink down onto his lap, his cock going deeper into his lover's body. Taylor's head went further back with every extra inch that stroked that sweet spot inside him, and he let out another cry of ecstasy. Dave smothered his exposed neck in kisses.

Dave began thrusting again. In this position, gravity was his ally. Once more, their arms went about each other and lips came together, and they moved toward the mutual goal of mind blowing pleasure.

The result was that Dave came, but Taylor, not yet. Shaking and moaning, he laid Taylor down and kissed him, riding out his orgasm. Taylor kissed Dave's face softly as he lay there with his eyes closed, panting. Seconds later, without a word, Dave kissed his way down the other man's body and ran his tongue along the trail of light brown hair that led to Taylor's erection before sliding it into his mouth, all the way in.

"Uhh! Dave, baby!" Taylor arched his back, smoothing Dave's hair down with his hands, stroking the raven-haired head between his legs. Shortly after, he began grabbing at that hair instead as he neared orgasm. "Dave... that's so good, almost... almost there... ahhh!"

Dave swallowed it all, and crawled up the bed, lying down next to his lover. Coming in for a kiss, Taylor put his head on Dave's shoulder afterward. "I'd say I didn't realize it could be this good with you, but I already knew that. Oh told me," he laughed.

"We spent a lotta years dancing around the truth. That's all done." Dave propped himself up on his elbow. "As tension-relieving as that was, I don't think this is what Kurt sent me here for," he said with a snort of laughter. "I think the reason he sent me is he knew you'd be able to help me work something out."

"What?"

"I had a dream last night that was in three parts. I understand why I was shown the first and last part, but not the middle. Can I run it by you?"

"Sure." Taylor gave his arm a sharp pat.

"I saw Nicky at a college party. He was talking to a friend. There was another dude there, someone Nicky referred to as his boyfriend. But the boyfriend never said anything. In fact, he barely moved. I think Nicky said his name was Manny." Searching his memory, Dave tried to remember if there was anything else. "His friend seemed to think that name was really funny. It was almost like Nicky had some sort of control over the boyfriend, he was so... so stiff and motionless."

"Hm." Taylor stretched, lifting his arms up over his head. "Maybe he was a dead body."

"I don't think so. The other people at the party didn't react like it was a dead guy, and Nicky and his friend couldn't stop laughing. I mean, yeah, it was a Halloween party, but still..."

"Somebody carrying around a dead body's gonna stick out."

"Right. Oh, and then this girl tried to get me to bob for apples, and I said no, I don't want those apples, they're made of plastic." Dave rolled his eyes. "Why does all this shit have to be so cryptic and written in metaphor? I got to figure out what I own that belonged to Nicky. My time is limited here."

"What do you mean, something you own that belonged to Nicky?"

It was the one detail of this whole sorted story that Dave had accidentally left out when trying to catch Taylor up. He explained how Nicky's belonging fit in with the spell. "But I have no fucking idea what I own that could have belonged to Nicky. I mean, what the fuck? How did that even happ - "

Taylor gasped. "Dave! Oh my God!" He turned wide eyes toward him. "I've got it!"

"What?!"

"Manny, he's really stiff, he barely moved... did you ever see his face?"

"No, his back was to me."

"Think about it! _Manny_... everybody thinks it's hilarious that he's there... plastic, they're made of plastic! Dave... it's the statue!" Taylor cried.

Confused, Dave asked, "Nicky owned the statue?"

"No. The statue was made from a mannequin!" Taylor's face lit up when the realization came to Dave's eyes. "Nicky owned the mannequin!"

His mouth hanging open in shock, Dave started, "Then that means - "

He felt himself being yanked out of the bed so hard that his dinner came up in his throat. "Taylor!" Dave called, grabbing at the sheet. It came with him as he flew away, through a tunnel and toward his next stop. The food went back down, but Dave could still taste it as he was plunked down in a sunny field, the same field of wildflowers he saw earlier, where Nicky and his siblings played pirate. Unable to move his head, he couldn't even look down to see if he was still naked. Some force directed where his head could look, and it now turned Dave's gaze skyward, showing him a beautiful blue sky with fluffy white clouds. Someone was flying a kite.

The scene painted on the front of the statue. It was the scene painted on the statue.

Dave could feel the sun, the light breeze, the perfect temperature of a spring day.

The force that controlled where he could look moved him forward enough to see two boys lying in the grass, looking up at the sky, their arms resting behind their heads. Nicky and his little friend, the one who stood up for the bug and played pirate with Nicky's siblings. Dave realized he was also the college friend, the one with black hair.

Here, they looked about ten or so. Birds sang in the nearby trees. 

"Do you have red hair?"

"No."

"Do you have black hair?"

"Yeah."

"You are Jimmy Page."

"You got it." Nicky reached into a bag lying at his side and took out a Pixie Stix to empty into his mouth. "I don't wanna play this game anymore. I'm bored."

"Don't let your dad hear you say that." Nicky's friend imitated his father. "He'll give you something to do!"

Both boys giggled. "Yeah, he'll make me paint the fence or clean out the garage. School isn't even out yet. I can do that shit over the summer."

The black-haired boy sighed. "What do ya wanna be when you grow up?"

"Rich!"

"How are you gonna get there? What job do you want?"

Nicky, chewing on the Pixie Stix wrapper, thought it over, looking at a cloud shaped like a snail. "I'm going to be a famous surgeon. Fix people's hearts and brains and stuff. Everybody around the hospital will know about the famous Doctor Kelly." He swept a hand out from his chest in a dramatic flourish. "What about you?"

The boy said, "I'm going to be an architect, and design big, beautiful buildings and museums and skyscrapers."

"I bet you could. You're a great artist."

"Thanks, Nicky!" He reached into the bag and pulled out a box of candy cigarettes. This seemed to be their candy stash for a lazy Saturday afternoon.

"Nicky! Nicky!" The little girl who played pirate with the others came running up. Probably Nicky's sister. "Robin found a dead raccoon that got run over by a bus! It's covered in maggots and everything! Wanna see?"

"Ewwww!" the two boys cried. Then they jumped up, ready to follow her.

The girl and friend ran off; Nicky went back for the bag of candy. "Wait up, guys!" He chased after them. "Ericka, Bobby, wait up!"

_Bobby!_

_"Members of the pirate gang with last names that are also girl's first names, follow me!"_

Nicky Kelly.

...Bob Christy.

_They were childhood friends!_

Bobby.

Bob.

Baub.


End file.
